We’ve got no one to see and nothing to do and nowhere to be and we’re just humming along on a wind of youthful wholeness a sea of wonder and experience swept in the undertow of a jealous mind but caught by a forgiving blanket of burnt brown leaves crispy crunch crash pad landing. Now, isn’t death funny? Look long and hard there. Strain your ear some more. Ah, yes a twinkle bird’s tweet and a lonely train’s blare. And the sun, burning through your every care.