Hiking, should we hike
Like we could hike
To Baghdad
In the foreign night,
With legs so strong,
To the golden field at sunset it's a disease
We've had it for centuries,
The need to
Be ourselves in the place that is all ours
It is our own
Way
To belong.

Only one place
Will be seen
So golden.
Foreign country
Seven PM, not enough.
Eight,
Maybe
She listens to the moon in its spin
Time and voice, it's a dimension
And it's getting close.

it's in her voice.
And even we're around
Pushing and pressing and making her off the ground
Leave,
It's your time,
The high clock awaits in its stairway and its ring,
It's what you need,
And she hears us whisper but she does not listen
She thinks its hers, it's not,
It's not the way
We'd like to be revealed.

So try this hiking life, this wild life,
The voice ascends above the open field
And maybe it could
Maybe it could happen
In its way of
persistent cave-ins