Ambivalent Paper White
Leaves of blood
The wind blows cold
The dance begins
The birds fly low
Alight on a wire
Take a look around
Then dart away
Shit falls to the ground
And the wind blows cold
Your restlessness grows
There are things you knew
And things yet to know
That you already knew
But forgot somehow
Now they surface like bubbles
Beneath your speeding bow
And each crashing wave
That pounds the shore
Erodes with each refrain
Yet you scream for more
Now what’s left to do?
Well, who’s left to say?
An ambivalent paper white
Was the sky that day.