When I work I work
What I say I say
What I do I do
And unlike you
When I must work
I work ahead at what I said I would do

Know not the rigidness of my eyes
Or the scent of my skin
As once did the picture on my face imply
For I am blameless in such regards
And rightfully so
For I have dedicated my entire self
My entire life
To the upholding of such high regards
For a person who I do not yet know  
That to me
Is more pure than the new fallen of snow

Did you know that when it rains
It secretly rains on us all?
Buildings or not
No state or county line alive
Can divide those underneath from which it falls
The glorious sky
The bellowing sky
Which opens up its eyes every morning
Just to look and see that we are yet still alive
And even though that same old sky
Which connects us though cannot love
It’s only because of such blessings from above
That we can learn to live and love at all

Your song is like a clover field
Lucky
Peaceful
Always at ease
Rolling like the streamless hills
Your body right here next to me

Within the grass
And on the wind
Ever is your voice to be
And even when I’m not in sight
To see your jawline ever slight
As you sing a clover field to sleep

I know your voice
As I know your eyes
And the way much like your song implies
That you are peaceful and at ease
Like a field of clover
You’re lucky to me

Whatever that song would look like...
I swear that you could see it in my eyes
Reflected here
Right now
Within this moment
Where I am alive

You reap what you sow
Or so I’ve heard
You get what you deserve
Or so it’s been said
Well whatever it is that I certainly want
I can't speak about it
I can't even think about it inside my head
Because how could it be
Or even come true for me
As it is?
Having sown something else
Beneath a much different tree
And as it is so you see
Never once indifferency  
And the only one who could've planted it
Was me

When a child hears a storm rolling
Or an old dog howls in the dead of night
And the thunder is crashing
The lightning is striking
And the heavy rain spouts outside are unfolding

That is when I
At the age fifteen
Would look to be out in the thunderous storm
Instead of inside beneath the crown molding

Such storms were the reasons why I would be smiling
But also a reason why I would get scoldings

“You’ll get struck by lighting”
Said my mother to me
And then the voice of my sister would sound out with glee
Screaming “With Mom and Dad gone, you better not die on me!”

But I didn’t care
Because out there I was free
To jump high in the storm
And even flip dangerously
Because I was a storm jumper
Destined to be

What fire is this?
Within your eyes
Like a ball of light
Gently caressing the ominous skies

Are you an omen to match my sign?
Or mere bones to cast in an empty cask?

I only ask because so many heads
Have turned away from this overcast
Just because of your fire

That hopeful passion
Which pulls each sailor slowly on
To survive another night until the dawn

To wonder if this your purposful fire
Is meant to bring us back
To the very thing which we ought to desire

Away from the devouring grave of the sea
To a house made of stone on the inland maybe?

Where are bodies would find the true solace of earth
And just might be at peace far away from the sea

Perhaps Saint Elmo
That is exactly where you wish us to be?

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like
And who I would be
If I dug out a grave six foot deep
And buried my bad habits there underneath
Once the freedom of topsoil was beneath my feet
Above that habitual grave who then would I be?

Whatever your heart wants most in life...

The kind of things that you do not get
Which might just depress or even make sad

Whatever your heart can desire like this
It couldn’t possibly have

Which is why in the first place
Your blasted, bloomin, beggin heart
Most definitely wants but cannot have
Whatever it is it’s desires so bad

And you don’t have to quote me when I say that
Just go ahead and trace one of your heart-strings back
To the unwinding thing which you couldn’t have