Precious touch like a drizzle of rain running down my arm. A kicked wind more like a breeze they say. There’s greatness in destruction just adjust you granted eyes. Lead to the gallows! Watch the spirit fly away! A flock moves south they are silent. . . The large moves so solemn So impossible to know. They reach up – all reach up. They sing away Be safe they say Where the mountains rise is where the sun the black the wind hides.