Compound theories appear in the sky
We are awakened to the sound of lullabies
Alibis drift into our skylines
We are mindful of a decline
Lions roar underneath the covers
We are uncovered in our clutter
Punctual demigods sit on their thrones
While other people suffer
We just wander all alone
Phone calls on Sundays
You return them all collect
Yet the edges of discovery
Are sometimes harder to suspect