Seneca - Patti Smith

Oh chariot of insect

Oh crown of wind

Two royal leopards run with him

On a golden lead of tapered vine

Oh the blood sky, oh the blood sky

Vine of a god running wild

Oh golden seed who made the winged child

Run, run my little one

Run out to sea

Run, run my little one

What do you seek?

The canvas is high

The scheme of a life

Written in the wind

The pen, the knife

Run my little one

Breathe a hymn

Breathe my little one

A hymn to him

To him

The master is calling, calling

The canvas is high

The scheme of a life

Written in the wind

The pen, the knife

Run, run out to sea

Run my little one

What do you seek?

If you were his eyes

If you were his dreams

The whole of the sky could not contain you

So run, run, run out to sea

Run my little one

Breathe a hymn for him

For thee