Heaven, earth conspire;
lift my eyes beyond this mirage.
A stormswell thunders in these meanstreets
while the softer raging
behind closed doors
behind doors, behind doors still
a labyrinth to
this heart billowing.
clouds soon to unleash
mama thought she knew me, grew me but
these storms conspire to make me real.
come the rain, wash away the rubbish and let’s make new
fields flourishing songs singing loudly
softly out their fruit of love