I skip silent stones on this lake To feel my breath cold, feel my lungs ache I wait patiently for lighted rain To fall from your mouth and swim in the vein My eyes vie in animation only with Your cloud And your spit On my belly Like an opal, bending and spreading And I guess that lack of me is why I always look for you Dour mind, aching snow The willow tree that no longer grows In timelessness I coalesce As an orchestration of carbon Moments dance before me like filigree ghosts Ornate mirages within cigarette smoke And their endless pantomime I find, tastes very much of you Of that peppermint dream I consume And I guess, that lack of me Is why I always look for you Dour mind, aching snow The willow tree that you said would grow In parables you coalesce As an orchestration of carbon