Listen to the reed 'cause it sings a story,
Of separations it wretches itself.
Ever since they cut me from reed-city
By my body, man and woman have lost health,
I want a lung, shorn shredded by distance
'Till I can tell the tale of tearing's pain.
Whoever who long stays from first instance,
From the break of dawn, starts searching for grain.
This story I tell to every group I see,
To the bad-willed and the good-willed I am.
Whoever is my friend is so subconsciously,
they didn't have to steal my chest from me.
My secrets aren't far from my cries
But, in my eyes and ears there is no light.
Body as soul and soul as body survive
But, not every crowd can see the soul just right.
It's fire, this bong of reed, not wind,
Whoever has not fire, is wind.
#Reed Song
frank gust
Reed Song