Jean-Dominique Bauby

Hope, what is the word
A broken believer
God is only a word
Invoked by a griever
Life, what is your gown
The skirt of my window
Death, where is your crown
The fold of my pillow

Took my child, sweet and mild
With his bags by the doorway
If our voice finds rejoice
We are glad for an old way
In this light, every sight
Takes the pallor of mourning
Call it relief in the backseat
Call it, briefly, a mooring



Credits
Writer(s): Zachary Bauman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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