Blue lighting embracing the faded linen of the couch,
We grow flowers to keep life flowing through this house,
Because planets only collide when it's the end of the world,
And the clean tile floors know that peace can't be disturbed.

The last we amplified our voices on one another's frequency,
The year sparkly white lighting hung down from trees,
Naivete of youth counting down to the far unknown,
Missing the fact that it will then be identities to mourn.

And down with China plates we inherit this folklore,
Bolt your windows and hide from strangers at your door,
Cause opportunities are nightmares you should avoid,
You see, you're only a half waiting to be adjoined.

In search for a wall to cower under its shadow,
The sun is never kind to lone figures with no one to follow,
So it won't matter if you mend this vacancy with cement,
No one will see past the frame, wood doesn't comprehend.