Salutary tongues that speak in turn. Waiting for their chance to make us yearn.
 The sounds and emotions spreading thin, we’ll sink the float that would not let us win.
 A solitary cheer that does not work. We cottoned on to all their taints and quirks.
 And fled to the mountains on a whim, watching all the mess behind us sink.
 And that’s no way to listen to our sonnet.
 They’re buzzing like a bee inside my bonnet.
 But the fools never listen to what I say.
 They’ve copied all their lines into a prayer.
 
 Fools, don’t listen to a word I say. Just look the other way.
 I’m not saying I’ve got much to say. Just look the other way.