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• Artiste: To Speak of Wolves
• Titre: White Dress, Red Letter
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In conversation, I'm a poet and a priest I wear this mask to hide and satisfy my needs I speak of glory then I demonize the way I'm a piece in the puzzle that is somehow out of place Each day away makes it harder to grasp The resurrection or absolution of the past Why do I find the need to cover my eyes? In my pocket, by self design, lives a hunger to keep hope alive And still this question comes to the surface in my dreams Is my pocket where it's meant to be? Drink from the grape of the one true vine Fulfill this hunger with the bread of life As I sleep, I slide in place A silhouette leads me to the corner Guided by the light of grace This search for freedom you will never find Without the guidance of the Son of high This search for freedom you will never find The only glory that can heal the blind This search for freedom you will never find The only maker that can end all time