I’d turn my back gladly on exile,
“Can you hear me?”
The soul inside me is the last foreign language I am learning.
The problem’s galus. The solution’s geula. Simple, isn’t it? The problem’s galus. The solution’s geula. Easy to forget.
Be seated, be seated, holy guests.
I dispatch an urgent message
How can we hope to hear the princess sing?
All material things
Vibrate with soft voices
That murmur in our dreams.
Light your Shabbos candles
And let me hear your voice.
Not too hurried / to catch the full moon / slide above a navy cloud