Home we haunt is sweet, with my belongings doting on my water. My water

feeds affections from my breasts, from between my legs, from the marrow of

my bones. The pales took it away in the silent weather. My water. My water.

My water is all, and all has been lost in the riverbed, suspended in the walls

of the past.

I miss my treasure. You are one I fed, I care, I hang myself to death, so handsaw

moved on its own, rusty is red, and you have so much water I hanker for.

Winter is the murder of love, we and millions of women behind us wail in silence

When the butcher tramples on the Holy Spirit with his high boots.

Whilst you came aside to drink my water, I no longer had any. Your greed, my

guilt, you are my possession, the river floats you to where you belong to.

Strangle me, I'll go live with you on the other side, silence is the best hymn of life.