At The Rapids - Christian Kjellvander

For the way my bird, for the way my bird

Spots me

For her strands so soft and so unique

That swallow the storm in me

My wolf cries my wolf’s eyes

Render me stale

And the cold but dry European nights

Keep our bodies pale

Let us walk through the rapids

Let’s be songs in the chapel

Let’s be words in the bible

All believed and all eternal

That which leads has led me here

Upon my strangers bed

Before the virgin matter of

Giving thought some head

All I love is gathered in one

Gathered to be released

Strike up a band for my gold has been panned

And my love has been retrieved