A fabric piece made of space and time
A short cut to her room through a road of crime
A bread bowl soup turned upside down
A crawling back start shakes the spirit of this town
Now she bends low to spit out all the rest of the ranks
The ladder to success is short of just a few more planks
The hour glass feels lonely while left swimming on a beach
Yellow and hazy, she shakes off the sunlight out of her reach
A torn up road map left by a travelling band
A whistle and a butterfly's wing emerge from the sand
She blows so deep, She flaps so wild
Blue and dead, she is a hurricane child
Now she makes her way back home discovering with the map
A short cut to her room has fallen upon her lap
She crawls back to the start and to a higher place
Where she wears a fabric made of time and space
