Wheeling Gull Isle sawajus

oh, um... nothing much, these days.
he'd been caught by surprise by the question, which was silly. he'd started the conversation and they both knew he liked to sing; at least, when he'd arrived. now it felt like he was singing a funeral dirge every time he tried, because in his heart he knew he'd never go home. it hurt to think about.
sometimes they're the songs of -- not my mother, but, someone like that. i guess she's like, um, an aunt, or something. kukutux was anaa, but that would only confuse heda, he thought.
what are you singing?