I know I'm silent
And I take pride in that
You wonder what footprints
That I keep in my scalp
When I comb through my mind
The pasture up there is not barren
But I feel there is no need to share
I'd rather create a silence
These are no ordinary thoughts
I would've talked about it
If the reply would not be
"Someone out there has it worse"
If the answer is not therapy
I handle it myself, that much is true
Your only role here is to respect
And meditate
Embroider me, meditate
No need to pollute the air
No need to get dark
Unless (that is of course) if you need my help
Here we sit, clearing fog
You take the silence, you meditate with me
You embroider me
No broken dreams in the screen room
Pretend my voice is burning wood
A rude crack ensues
~ Anastasia (From my album Come, Behold The Meadow And Embroider Me: chapter 1 "She hates being dead")
