The loners
Flowers could be in gardens or by roadside
Or deck the mortuary, or my hair
Look, these morning glories at my window
Come from a crack of the brick wall
For me, I think, or who else
And those trees
Those seedlings beneath the canopy
And those scattered elsewhere
Who knows which one will survive
And grow up beyond a hundred years
A seed may fall in a dent of a rock
And take to sprout
Its roots reach out for underwater
And its hands for the sun above
The loners, born by precipices
Struggle for life in perilous bloom
Never know the pretended terror
Of a bungeer
Solo chorus
I am an dissonance
In mass square dance
Like a zombie suddenly comes alive
Supple and fair and enchanting
I am looking for a place
Where I can sing and dance
To my own whim and rhythm
Where no one listens or see