The deep blues color the dusk
As nothing else has been planned
And nothing left, in these empty hands
Daises droop down, into the grass
Waiting for the sun to lift them up tomorrow
And I allow this boomeranged sorrow
The one I sent away
When nothing else was planned
It\'s senescence though, is out of my hands
If I could only come back as daisies tomorrow
As if it\'s been timelessly planned
But my clock work suffers, from stuck hands
A cold blue night is upon me
I don\'t want anything to be planned
I\'ll droop down, maybe you can carry me in your hands?
-Al