In Lily's Hands, ljóð frá 17. nóvember 2022.

Love is more in Lily's hands,

like to stay but worlds shall call...

Every nation, all must fall,

as the circle closes soon.

So you learn that silence rules...

sins in fashion, times just gone...

Raise him to the famous fans,

first you meet the bulls.

Say it's correct, see the goon,

so we're here, the perfect Bonne?

 

Fools may never finish this,

first you say, then throw them all.

Looking through the lightweight ball,

Levitical, obey what?

Can we try to keep it down?

Queens and women say too much!

All he wanted, only kiss,

as he slew down town.

Can't be saved, so ripe they rot,

resentful, but perfect kutch.

 

He's just such a person, pride,

pity him like all the stall.

They are new, and must, in mall,

maidens pure are come this way.

Open doors in other world,

elves are here and beauty too.

Can't look down, the correct stride,

cognate, wanted furled...

Could you serve him? - Say you'll stay...

some time everyone must do!

 

 

Skýringar. Bonne: Nöfn hafa merkingar í ljóðum. Nafnið Bonne er af frönskum uppruna og þýðir hinn góði. Kutch: Barkarsýra unnin úr trjám. Furled: Uppvafinn, tryggilega bundinn.