Let's try to make the most of this," I'll ask this once: my last request.
I count the times that you recede, I slip through (your) hands and kiss your teeth.
Mend your words down side to side
Stutter step, defeat revised
When your words spill out in rust, they billow out and rise in dust.
So start ahead now while you can, and someone will take you with silver hands.
Waltz in form on down the aisle, with perfect pace and in single file.
With patterned plans to mend your streets, they rise in form beneath your feet.
Our darkest days are gone for now, we'll adorn our suits and our best gowns.
