Did I find the wrong eternal sunshine?
Ambience an epitaph
To the fog of an unspoiled mind
Pile me up like stones on a cairn
Yearning for the freedom of the sky
Children locked up against our wishes
Arms too short to reach the handles, you and I
It's in the fine print, cut between letters
Swallow down these tablet stones
They will help you sleep at night
You will never be alone.