On the matching seats to go with his drink
Seashell wind chimes blow in the wind
Every note hits like a idea coming into frame
Arriving down from a place not heaven or hell
All connected as one
Metal seats, with his metal drinks
All coming together, crystal blue pale
Away from the sun
But connected as one
God's grown saplings making noise to fill in the dead air
Puffs of water in the sky
Still seen from a mile high
Still connected as one
As one
As one
--Raymond G., Adult