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I saw you on the highway’s other side

Just as fast and blessed by knowing, where you go cannot be stolen

Your feet declare, and the world comes to you

Birthright of three hundred million kings

Where our paths cross, where we pass

The island in the middle of us creaks

 

There are flowers between us

Big ones bend on stems we’ve shaken

Drinking in our dirty air

We’ll worry for them all the whole way there

Where we go cannot be stolen, even if our roads were made to change

Even if the where became a spoiled quirk by time and dirt

That each familiar curve along our way brought up the bile in us

 

Lillies of the field, do you pretend

Bending between us, there’s a way to keep your sweet?

What good can come along a poisoned road

And when will you remember that to drive is to bald a scalding sky?

 

Between us are the camps of kings whose feet have never made the world to turn

(For birthright ain’t the same as having done)

So old songs remember, flowers wielding spring

 

Of stems that bend we ought to say

They were made to yield to any wind, any way

Of spaces between us we should claim

They were made to rest in our exhaust

Anywhere you meet a couple standing by the road

Go on with shaking head, and do not worry whether

Each calling were a word, or accident

Damn whatever grumpy farmer dumps them after all

Who planted us drives us, who drives us can’t be other

 

I’d bully the lilies where your land began to burn

Where we go cannot be stolen, brother

Three hundred million poisoned roads were made

For nothing, but to get us there