I think to call your name
And tell you
And tell you
How it sets my soul on fire.
The very thought of you is
Inspiration.
“Be good,” you said.
So I let the wind carry it instead;
The rustling chant of leaves
Is atonement,
My sins appeased.
Is atonement,
My sins appeased.
I listen then, carefully
For your response on the breeze.