Give me your etchy sketch
I'll shake it all about
So your future is dim
Plain and pure

Promises should be held with high regard
No resistance at all
Passive stretching assists

In the clouds
The art is written
Like a molded craft
Sitting desolate by the fountain
And the trees

I'm hope bound
******* in transition
Raising arms up with
Slippery doubt
Gripping the wheel
There must be control

Losing it
Will break all molds
The hours of ease
And testy talent
Will be all for naught