What is This? - Swans

There is a star in my throat

In a void there is hope

In a space in between

Runs the milk of release

If motion is time

I am water, I will rise

To your bed on a cloud

Where you stand, where you writhe

Painted red, bleeding gold

Your sword guts the sun

Flesh is torn

Oceans disgorge your love

We are swimming through

Your moonlight pools

The phosphene tides

The writing on your eyes

We drift through stone

We sift our own powdered bones

We wash, we are clean

What is it now that is thinking this thing?

Oh where are you?

What can you do to prove you exist?

Oh what is this?

Who is this singing that which no longer exists?

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing now