The Critical Distance کے بول

We look up, silently Without quite music My face four days old You look newborn There's fear in your frown, like mine No distance away Noticing your hand Half round my head And on my face Protecting me, protecting me Afraid of your frown, don't change For me expressions A button undone The earth that's on my back And in my hair Portraying me, portraying me You're so clean, untouched Like me experience possessed She breathes so tence Flexes her hand Don't relax Projecting me, projecting me.....