Clouds are twiddling so high in the skies,
Painting their cheeks crimson with petty little lies.
Lies of rain, lies of dawn, and those of hope,
Bound to eternal dusk on a rope.
Lies of happiness, and of gay stars
Ripping the hate out of those dreadful wars.
Carving gardens where bloom love and peace,
Sipping the genteel foam of the seas.
Rowing the earth with gold, auburn flowers,
So man can live for a few more hours.