Asia Three

It's quiet here now, after fifty years of need, her face smooth as stone, can still see the grave, where praise be, one day I'll be saved, we come here under snow, in the land of the free, why god knows, give me a place, where they love excessively, each day's a holiday, geese with barren tones, make my neck freeze, wrinkled on my shoulder, they honk on their way, late for the season, I'm just the same, in the blue dawn, stripped down like a tree, between here and home, protestants and property.