Looking down the hill
Wild cherries with a footprint
Lonely as a window sill
Burning smoke and a flavor mint
Swing sky high into the song
The rope that holds you tight
The birds have taken rather long
To kill the angels with all their might
Descend slowly back into the joke
The ropes that you are freed from
The birds hold the gun as he spoke
Speechless as he lets go of the gun
Looking up into space
Melting stars with no name
Starving to win the race
The footprints are to blame
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