The lines I write are rarely right
The ones I keep are barely right
You are a field of wildflowers in spring
I quit smelling the weeds
I've started talking to trees
We have a virus
We have a plan
You have a lightness
You make me believe we can
The punks have sold themselves
To politicians from hell
Paid by the word to write 'em down for the birds
Everything runs its course
But I'll be dying before
I swim with the stream or ever buy into the shore
I was living in the sea
Surfaced just to barely breathe
On the horizon I heard a town
You were singing the sound
Of a trapdoor in the universe
To a cure and curse
To love and to be loved hurts
But it could've been worse
We have a virus
We have a plan
You have a lightness
You make me believe we can