and who in her lonely slip, who by barbituate,
who in these realms of love, who by something blunt,
and who by avalance, who by powder,
who for his greed, who for his hunger
as the mist leaves no scar on the dark, green hill,
so my body leaves no scar on you, nor ever will
like arrows with no targets, like shackles made of snow
it's lost in our embraces, like stars against the sun
