We all have our little hopes,
our little dreams,
burning inside us.

Some a mild fire,
others a raging inferno...

When the night cradles,
starry sky above.
The rhythem of life deepens,
Lucifer unveiled.

In the swaying wind, summer breeze,
rice stalks stand tall and proud-
in each a bud, egg within hen.
in each a fire, yolk within egg.

Oh, for the love of pete,
won't you let these tiny buds blossom without a care,
for the world's selfish loadcarts?
for the eye's ruthless "pick-a-card"s?

For the seeds of yet,
yet have mouths- they do not speak
they do not eat.
Not deceit.
Shut up and listen I say...
conformation has never been an option for me.

Hear me now,
for the ground beneath is barren and bare,
so stop your illusions, and cut the act,
for tomorrow we harvest what we sow.

I just want the buds to blossom,
without a care
for reality's snare...

Carry the pussy willows away dear wind,
high up and away...
And let thy rose in rhapsody lay.