Oh pretentious morning,
Mocking the free fall of night!
Clouds do hover.
Then a certain quietude settles over.
And I turn to see,
A thousand white doves,
Taking flight.
(God is my quietude.)
Oh pretentious morning,
Mocking the free fall of night!
Clouds do hover.
Then a certain quietude settles over.
And I turn to see,
A thousand white doves,
Taking flight.
(God is my quietude.)