Flags wave hidden on the High Seas. Mountains, fountains born directionally. "Starboard!", cries, blanket eyes, go ahead, sip your coffee.
I'm in the East wing, formed all conditional, bound by the set back, forged on all fours. My etiquette, my red lace- Formality killed me before I could even enlist.
Bliss, truth be told, scold the bold, hold the line, I pray. Break away, I'll sway, I'll sway and rock back and forth, Black to top, Bleeding wet.
Beneath the purple, seconds old, I'll hold my breath, I'll face the cold, I'll hang my banner, from my heart, the World's talons won't depart.
I'll doubt the seconds, I'll hold my breath, I'll breath again, I'll finally, amidst all my grit- all my tension, mixed with Thunder's Tears... The voices speak to me, boisterous like Heaven's Gates.
We never made it to the New World. I made it to the New World.