Here we are again.
The familiar gray of ash
Falls from fire and flame.
From far away, I hear it calling.
I won't refuse it, I am coming
Home.
Father, you know my hands are dirty.
Mother, oh mother.
Lover, I need no other.
Wash my stains away.
Tides of pain are coming
Home, Home, Tides are coming Home.
Father, please believe me.
Mother, you know I'm bleeding.
Lover, I know it's hard to discover.
Wash my stains away.
Tides of pain are coming
Home. I must go away.
Away, I must go away.
It's my last resort.
My last resort.
Hold the candle to the breeze,
Get on my knees,
And just breathe.
Sanctuary.
Here I am now,
The familiar gray of 'how? '
From far away I hear it calling,
I can't refuse it, I'm coming
Home. Home, I'm coming Home.
It's my last resort.
My last resort.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem