By Daniel Rodriguez

We are the blood inside the men.
Rivers flowing to and from
The mouth of the mighty ghost
To the eyes of the setting sun.
These hearts beat for the land,
The sky and things that go unseen.
In due time may we come to know
And see these things we do not see.

My love she walks a tight rope.
If she falls, she’ll fly, I know this to be true.
If she reaches the other side, she’ll climb even higher
Than the crescent moon.

We are the dreams and walk right through
The stories told of such.
A wisdom gained of mirth and loss,
Of pain and joy and lust.
We are the lungs, we breathe for dance,
For trance and mystery.
We are the breath, we take it in
And let it go as we please.

This heart’s a steam engine baby,
And love is you.

We can sing a song in the midst of pain
And break on down the walls.
Sometimes we rise above
And look out across it all.
Sometimes we lose the plot,
And it’s for this we pray,
In a way that was never taught,
Somehow it will be ok.

This heart’s
A steam engine
Baby,
And love is
You.

We are the blood inside the men.
Rivers flowing to and from
The mouth of the mighty ghost
To the eyes of the setting sun.