This movement of the sea in your sleep
this lonely wind turned into night-

Searching for the sky in the surface
Opening a bridge through the air

Making memory fall like a thorn or a tear in the fire
Turning around with a flashing head

The tongue sticks to the ground, the bushes
The words sticks to the hair, the nails
The inside of fingers to the outside of houses
Landscapes and smiles repeating themselves as they are to disapear

The voice moves in the grass, picking up light
You are kept in places beyond faces and gardens
You are kept like yes fits in no
You say: Building a cloud is all it takes in my world