Pedalling through
The dark currents
I find
An accurate copy
A blueprint
Of the pleasure
In me
Swirling black lilies totally ripe
A secret code carved
He offers
A handshake
Crooked
Five fingers
They form a pattern
Yet to be matched
On the surface simplicity
But the darkest pit in me
It's pagan poetry
Morsecoding signals (signals)
They pulsate (wake me up) and wake me up
(pulsate) from my hibernating
- Björk, Pagan Poetry
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sy3be2…
