Lord, let's get the hell out of this rut
Or solace will surely never come
Exclaim, sweep discarded words away
Prophetic they never were
As the crow flies
We will walk into the gate
The spring in my step
As the taste that you make
My chaperone
My advocate
My cloaking device
I could use your advice
Cause I don't need proof
While ever there's you
Gravity fails
There's wind in these sails