release, in line, the butterflies
through pastures braised and blue
return, now find compromise
until praise be unto you

with morning comes the sorrows
for sparrows mourning, fly
pray tell, divulge the under way
come good just in time

hands at work are empty
empty hands are true
trickle down the drainpipe
deflect, always bid due

then follows is the innocence
who’s speckled colours mind-
wheeled roads become the many
when the many fall behind