So we must fall back into the hands of the potter sometimes,
Others spin violently as excess exits with gravity,
Outer edges own intricate, protruding with all conscience,
Level rise to anguished heights, rebellion floods desires of right,
We crumble with the force of the dark genes,
Salvaged we are, by the scarred hands of the potter,
Into the oven - please not now,
Not now, please,
Paint elaborate schemes of lonely for me only,
Later low them lightly, when the cool's cool we cry,
But we can if we try,
Really we can.
Rattling loose in time, experiments riddle our mind,
Collective thoughts are no longer consumer consumption,
Brush away dry leaves - after the fall comes winter,
Failing to see the sun, we try to live ,
Survivors of wind when we die,
We can if we try,
Really we can.
Owing the known up on into the unknown as the wind blows,
Cleaning to the spring, and on the wings come the bold for my bow,
Sounds echo to the forever, for "Never alone" it's said,
Dead is passing to life, external strife is its definition or deviation of emphasis,
We will always fail, we will always miss,
He will, she will, I will, we will,
Whose will is instilled in the notches of remember?
The existence of the twenty-fifth day of December,
Open souls whispers, "I should have believed, I should have believed,"
But in what we can't see?
We can't see with our eyes,
We can if we try,
Really we can if we try,
If you try.
