Lost before we begin abiding
The course laid onus
So afraid the salt is ours
Hold with focus
Hands made of flowers
With metaphors and tape
Your blissful finger's
Concerned but maintained
Go'on estimate your faulters
In quiet form
Angel kissed your head that evening
No walks alone
Don't go back between us
The windows shut
In one's place
Isn't made for fixing
In such little time
Fix your shoulders
Bring forth your bags of freedom today
Fix your shoulders
Bring forth your bags of freedom today