Salutary tongues that speak in turn. Waiting for their chance to make us
yearn.
The sounds and emotions spreading thin, we’ll sink the float that would not
let us win.
A solitary cheer that does not work. We cottoned on to all their taints and
quirks.
And fled to the mountains on a whim, watching all the mess behind us sink.

And that’s no way to listen to our sonnet.
They’re buzzing like a bee inside my bonnet.
But the fools never listen to what I say.
They’ve copied all their lines into a prayer.

Fools, don’t listen to a word I say. Just look the other way.
I’m not saying I’ve got much to say. Just look the other way.