Motion a mending, muscle amass,
Mighty the moment can be
We remain rooted out feet in the soil,
We want to be home, to be free.
Minding the spaces, minding the gap,
Hand in hand we go,
Silent to swallow a journey to nowhere,
Marching along in tow.
Standing alone with my feet on the throne,
This is not what I thought it would be,
Running and running our feet in the air,
Is this the way home, the way home, the way home, the way home.
Look high, and fall, to the arms of the land,
And slide
Through the cracks in the earth.
Soon, soon
Soon the day will...
Soon, soon
Soon white daisies will grow.