Sky is for fore-speech always Your voice in the airways So wake those asleep Lord, whose only reward is this life here? May the seeking not be Put to shame because of me Don't let those out looking for you Find a dead end instead Light the way with fires A seeking heart it requires To the way you've hand picked I find you perfect set the picnic Dine or just stand far off Counting places on the table cloth You look like we've all sketched Think it's far-fetched, your arms outstretched Avoids kisses and hugs Like a snake with earplugs That ignores the charmers tune And stays immune to loving you