She sells her sticks, she sells her bones
She says she's tired of being alone
She says it's time for her to go
She'd slowly fall, slowly fall
Into the world of diamonds and gold
Into the arms of savage control
Perhaps we are at the end of the day
We'd slowly decay, slowly decay
Because that's what we do when all is done
And that's what we know when all is unknown
Perhaps we are when resting within your palm
We've got our lives written in stone
I've always felt it a little bit odd
The things you say with your eyes deep shut
I've always felt so scared of it all
Nothing is written in this heart you stole
I've still got a beat that's surely mine
I've still got a dream and a breathing vibe
Someday, we'll have the strength to find
The God who's not written in stone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem