What are we doing stifling flames,
Taming the wilderness with acceptance,
Handling life with kitchen mittens,
Following a bone to where the currents send us.

We live in a river doomed to have one shore,
And all the boats sail to infinity,
Only when the drought hits town
Do all the sailors part for the sea.

Art became something we're used to,
A design where every brushstroke has to fit,
Bold colors feel like salt in your coffee,
Cause they make the reserved eyes upset.

So every candle smells of forgiveness,
An act of worship for a new excuse,
You might wake up tomorrow or after 90 years,
And see that this paper can no longer be of use.