When I see
The naked branches of trees
Pointing like flames into smokey grey sky
It makes me wish I was where the birds fly
...
What I await all day eludes me at night
My mind preoccupied as I pass through pages
All day I'm tired but when I turn out the light
I lie awake aware that I'm reliving these stages
...
¡Oh pasión arrebatada, amarilla, y desesperada!
La causa de quejarme en plomo y llantar con mi pluma
Por tú orden la pagina es calada
Con las querellas del deseo ciego que me importuna
...
Unarmed Wingman
When I see
The naked branches of trees
Pointing like flames into smokey grey sky
It makes me wish I was where the birds fly
To part with cold, wind, ice, and snow
and escape the streetlights' glow
like one of the martyrs whose arms turned to wings
in a land where no man can act as king