Knock Knock -It´s The Past
The ocean knocked on my door tonight,
said I hadn’t called her in a while.
I set the table for the two of us, I served her oysters and salt water.
On the edge of her lips they whisper to her in a language I don’t know yet,
then slide down her throat with a sigh.
I said: Mother, I’m sorry I packed down all the bottles you sent me,
that I let the ships within them burn down,
said I hadn’t called her in a while.
I set the table for the two of us, I served her oysters and salt water.
On the edge of her lips they whisper to her in a language I don’t know yet,
then slide down her throat with a sigh.
I said: Mother, I’m sorry I packed down all the bottles you sent me,
that I let the ships within them burn down,
I’ll never not know that all my rage is a tempest in a glass of water,
and that all my leaving is on ships in bottles all sailing towards her benevolent hands
and that all my leaving is on ships in bottles all sailing towards her benevolent hands
