Hey, a long gone spell’s been cast away,
 Witch works kicked over the moon,
  
  No curses anywhere,
   No more unjust blame,
    Secret doubts,

Harborings of perfection, well genuflected flat out revenge,
 What will I ever do with all my spare time?
  I think I’ll puddle up my mind with Spring,
   I’ll bower the sunlight with flowers,
  All the new born leaves, the new arrivals
 Of a god’s love for a super richly variegated life,
  Good grief, marmalade,
   Who could ever stand such a true release?
    I don’t think I could,

I’m much more given to lurking behind
 the false masks of my desires,
All my get along ways signify only a reluctance of my soul,
 That fearful feathery float of need
  That’s cornered somewhere in my mind,
   It knows not what it is,
    It appears to be such a weighty thing,
     But in actuality it’s not,

Actuality, that’s the land it longs for but never finds,
 The marble truth, the golden key,
  The unknown gemstone of an all perfection birth,
   There’s no such thing,
    No final core, first go, sure path,
  Good Grief,
   And yet still springtime booms on in,
    Tubas and cornets, piccolos and drums,
     What a big raw sound they make!
      Not a peep, never heard,
Nested in nothing,
 Sunshine,
  No true sun at all,
   And yet all this light..