These Hills

   Turbulence fills these hills.
Pain and death cover these
woods like frost. Moans and
cries fill the air 'til there is
no room to breathe
   I walk these hills 'til I
see the pain, feel the cries,
taste the turbulence of these
hills. I sing this song with
these hills. Deep, old and
secret lies the heart of
these hills, broken and bleeding
lie the pieces.
   Sleep does not exist in
these hills. Blood caresses the
earth like summer rain.
Streams of water dance over still
forms and silence screams
as death takes another partner.
The earth trembles under the weight
of these hills.