You are beauty blessed and broken,
And I offer this simple token.
Peasant poor; my words
Soft spoken prayer.
Will you stay close to me?
Will you stay close to me?
When mother calls and father flees,
My words are merely tiny things,
Oh would you hold them close to thee?
Or will you crush these bones to powder?
Then swallow in some future hour.
So I am skin and holy gases,
Soul and sin and succored sadness.
Even if this moment passes,
I could not breathe in your absence.
Fool's prayer, as such, I ask this,
Shift my focus through such vastness.
Oh will you stay close to me?
Will you lie close to me?
Will you walk close to me?