City of Kimbalala

Under our feet. Hidden roads. Quiet doors. Call my name. Stone turns to

silver as we slip below. Maps fall apart where the rivers go.

Carved in the bedrock, forgotten rooms. Spelling a promise beneath the moon.

Footsteps echo then the echoes fade. Air gets warmer in the endless cave.

I feel the daylight where the dark should be. Something ancient waking up in me.

I dried up under the central sun. Where the lost lines run,

where the lost lines run. City of Kimbalala. Blazing in the deep.

You were waiting there, you were never asleep. I dried