Spaghetti falls—
Splut.
No arm tears now—
solo me río.

Accompanying music.

Some will say you hide the sun;

I say that the sun hides you.

Clean as cream or stained with mud,

mixed with every hue o’ blue,

you find comfy every season,

mixing with both sun & rain;

bubble me from earthly treason:

pillow me in dreams away.

Then the billows all turn gray,

lullabies turn into shakes—

1 last thunder ‘fore my wake.