On a plain, from a scene
Some twisted unwritten stage
Where two pieces of a puzzle
Come together, fit different sides
Can't decide .
Race up a hill, gravity magic
Love, always the climb
And to their surprise
The buckets they tote
Are weapons of protection
Survival, of the fittest
Wishing well ,
Little boys want little girls
With pretty wishes
Rolling and laughing
Hitting nerves, losing grips .
Then no one makes a sound .