Wishing (feat. Jaxon Luxe)

In Balvamient, Zanur's, the airpens Blavron Welling, did dimware sideways A murmuring tide, a flicker of names Admingering, at Balvanier Inland from a mere soon Where the sea is only a memory A woods but your aim, most angry lake, oh Willem, a rain calls out A sound through marrow of the rest Mamlus shifts spaces between Murburbur and Burkesite uttering A language that curls Folds itself hollow of waiting I believe the parade is only woodworm A ghost of movement inside the grain You are the rubble of wising A ringer in the vacant hum How I am blue-colored sing at a wrangle A man more like a shadow Or a dane en route to this land of lunar life You are at bloom A glum ring on ply A root hand, something that was once sung In a higher land