Follow me, dust to dust.
Our aching feet will rejoice once again,
Where the leaves fall
and the stars explode into the glittery cosmos.
Speckled with atheism and creationism at once.
Where no man falls under rule
and no crates of bone return home.
Where empty minds don't exists,
and knowledge is sought through recreation.
And dogs don't wear the suit and tie,
and women are men too,
where kids imagine,
where parents say yes.
Where our reach is endless.
Where the metal bullet collects layers of dust.
When what needs to be said will be said,
and the new is no longer our worst fear.
When I no longer sit and wait,
and instead I hear and now.
With my scattered and erased etcha-sketch mind,
I follow the noise and not the cattle.
When everything I say will be true.
Oh lead me to the sight of those years.