Walking a Death Valley of colour
Searching for just the blues...

A fairy tale for forgotten children
The story teller tending a dying flame...

Blank stares into dead space
Little worriers checking heart rates...

Butterflies and bunny rabbits
Asleep in their shrouds...

If I were an ocelot
I'd spend my days catching flies...

In villages where bread was thin
And grief still clung to door and bone...

From up here they could all be forgiven
Separated as I am from their spite...

One last while before forever
Comes to call upon our names...

The animals they weep
My insecurities build...

Reading between lines
Talk of destruction...

Fire fighting my friends more protest no peace
Baby’s catching blue rubber bullets in their...

Tell me what you want
Tell me what you mean...