Brian Eno - Breath Of Crows | Текст песни

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• Brian Eno
• Breath Of Crows

My god is in the breath of crows,
It grows and shrinks with the elemental wish;
A fire with no link to the wish of man,
But it must be absolute, this god,
For when the mind is absolutely still,
It moves.

My god is in the breath of crows.
May I not delude a self image to think
He grows to grant my wish or wash my sin
But let me watch in wonder as he makes his work

Wonder in this.

The sounds of holy night abound
Kestrel calls and bells;

Drink the air, and the race for meaning quells.
Let it in. Let it in or the calls will sound like hollow tin
Or gramophone circling its background dust,
It must, replaced by must, by scent and sense;
A shell peeled pupil to reveal a deeper black,
Shelled like fresh new peas, each orb of wonder.
Wonder this.

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