Текст Julie Byrne – Melting Grid

Paper that’s quick to burn, and the cinnamon peeler
Beetles crushed that dye the carmine, well, I exist to be dreaming still
Kansas, Arkansas, my fields they’re always rich and in fire
Long work labor not worth our minds

And if the roses need not tending
Until, until noon I’d sleep
Never could I have gone on that way
Because money’s not the thing that’s ever given me sight

Colorado, Wyoming, Helena into the Evergreen
And the wilds washed all thought of endeavor that was left in me

And would you ask my permission
The next time you absorb me?
Preserve my memory of the mystic west
As I lay no claim to the devotion I felt

Our conversation, it banks in me
And I had almost forgotten the nature of dawn
I thought of it for days after, even months after the moments were gone

But I’d get so lonely inside that room
No matter who would ever wait for me
I get so lonely inside that room
No matter who would ever wait for me