Sticks and stones and broken bones

One lost face in the crowd
two more souls dying to be found
and all those hearts secretly begging for peace
as you try to find yourself at ease
in your own holy ground
wherever that is
whenever you please
for all disgust shall turn around
and all them whistles shall die down
if you're safe once again
and if my sunbeam won't restrain
the colours of your gloom
that's beyond your domain
of fortune or doom;
no reason to understand
why there are ends
so we're blessed with new beginnings
cursed with new spices
bored with steady meanings
thrilled with sacrifices
till a point where it seems
no one else is to blame -
our friends and foes are just about the same.
One lost face in the crowd
two more souls dying to be found
while we're taken, shaken, carried away
by the waves of the sound
lust in space
sour embrace
impulsive regrets
and yet no harm done -
we will always be waiting for the sun.
Still
once this very day kneels
the fancy dress shall be misplaced
the wild desire shall be outraced
by pure thinking.
Let us all experiment a day without sinking.