frequently flying, we were bombers in disguise
hijacking mind-states and setting fire to the village
watching the smoke rise and our egos fall
as geese and planes dove to the ground

someone's in the sky with diamonds
and their rock lasts them longer than their faith
losing themselves in the passers-by
anonymous cumulus

the mirrors sing of lives already seen,
holding onto the sky's sweet expression masked in clouds
the sunshine's sweet lullaby
and the hum of 18 wheelers

and the children in the field, with their feet in the air
are blissfully unaware of anything besides the blue
the city crumbles, rubble runs across their feet,
but the circus in the sky goes on