I cannot teach a sparrow how to sing. but I - can sing to a sparrow. but not of war. stars are on my lips. caked in dust and Merlot. a red stain upon the lyric. numbing the core. I dread to do the thing that stops the heart. but I'm the pocket with the hole full of lint. it never was, that I be nothing more than apart. I am always close enough to repent. should ever I stray to where the light is Dark.