The Lakes - James Vincent McMorrow

Took the nerve for unseen, feeling it go untrue

For a say what is true of chaos in too

Then in the quiet it calls again

In our world in our time, give it all miles away

Lives alone at the wildest day and then were taken home

Settled words were gone again were called upon

And down to the lake where the last we go

I was not laid those down below

Oh they been wait, the fall and the row with the trap show failing from

Presence from upon

Harrow winds and falls upon the highs and low

For the side, down to the window

For the side, down to the way on