Paint put on metal, kept in our chests,
flows through these chambers so our hearts glow the same way.
We know the chords of our marrows, the pace of each other’s steps
We’re next to kin, feathers of a wing, all of one.

Whispers in hallways, creaks from the stairs,
thin glares around doors, we place in wooden chests.
Strings stretch out from our backs, drawn in tangled lines.
We’re atoms that shine, stars of a sign, all of one.

We know the scent that swirls in our tracks,
The blaze of our moves, the afterglow that stays.
Black dust from our feet turns, turns bright water dark.
The grains of salt from our lips turns sweet water hard.
We’re feathers of a wing, all of one.

We cut marks at points in time, we celebrate with allied,
add new ink to faded letters.
The trophies that we collect to hold on to what can’t be kept,
stored deep in hidden vaults, silhouettes of something lost.
We’re stars of a sign, all of one.

We carve symbols in our timber, split the leaves on every birch,
connect the places within us to homes that we build.
We carry treasures filled with tokens of who we are and where we’re from,
Veil stones in velvet so they won’t get torn, so they won’t get torn.