"How do you like the bike...?
- cool bike... who's is it?
It's G's
- Who's G'?
G's D' Baby, G's D'..."

Small sound... Not even heard... Not even seen
A hymn of monks, the faint singing of sisters
so faint in the distance
who are they singing to..?
Who are they listening to?
Do they think he hears them too?

A call from below reaches upstairs, but in between - a long
suspence
no one to read it, no one to see it
still hoping, begging and cying, thanking, and for what? for
whom?
they're call's are not answerd, and they never will.

They die, asking for help, asking to live, asking
redemption, but
from what? from whom? the're calls are not met
Yet still they adore this no one who they've never met and
probably's dead