4/4

The candescence, The fluorescence In the presence, and the message That she spreads, as she says the breathes of her next Becoming in a birth The words survive as she died To read and cry, forever fly To rest, the dust, the cusp, to just Become the air of earth The beauty to believe To see, too free The feelings, the birthings The cycling for meaning in our looping beats of four 4/4, count off our songs lower In the past, you let the grass cover/cast Memories last To write and preform Now she's made of paint She once took her mother's words like a saint Dressed in white, raised by christ Now she dances on the wall, dreaming She runs out painting and screaming