This is the moment when I was conceived.
This was the temperature when I was born.
This is the night I caught a fatal illness.
This is the method by which I was cured.
This is the garden where we were once wed.
This is the bed we slept side by side.
Inside the capital, we spent our lifetimes.
This is the moment in which I died.
Softly, sweetly, silent without distress or pain.

This is the temperature of my last breath.
This is the tenderness that took my life.
For endless summers we loved tirelessly.
In endless fever we walked side by side.
This is the rhythm and the sound that saved me, each restless corner of a life transformed.
This is the silence of a crippled childhood.
This is the moment when I was born.
Slowly, harshly, violently, joyfully aware.

Deep in the kingdom is where I'll be.
Safe in the nation's custody.
Burn down the house to get inside where we reside.

This is the kingdom of crashing cymbals, oh.
This is the nation where this song was born, oh.
This is the house that burned our rhythms, oh.
This is the moment when every single movement was born.