We packed those flags in your bags down the stairs,
Marched with your dress, and roses in your hair.

We built those homes with stones at the base,
Makeup shatters and crumbles from your face.

We gathered in a line.
Our arms armed with red wine.
And time is divine if you read between the lines
Anytime.

Cracking crabs with the language we have.
Bust crustaceans in iron clad.

This home is a soft landing pad.
Marked with bills and wanted ads.

We gathered in a line.
Our arms armed with red wine.
And time is divine if you read between the lines
Anytime.

We gathered in a line.
Our arms armed with red wine.
And time is divine if you read between the lines
Anytime.

words and music by Jack Averill
copyright © 2012 Jack Averill
All Rights Reserved