"Is it lasting?", and in asking, the sphere becomes a line
A dotted line, and to follow it, you must make a jump each time
A dotted page, a dotted hillside, a blast of dots
A blind reader, a flock of sheep, and a blast of trumpet shots
Here
All we have here is sky
All the sky is, is blue
All the blue is, is one more colour now
A basket of apples by the back door beneath the sweater pegs
The autumn leaves lift along the street a pair of dancing legs
Same as the vendor who likes to sing as loudly as he can
And all he says is, "It suits me fine, that's the way I am"
Here
All we have here is sky
All the sky is, is blue
All the blue is, is one more colour now
Speak a little softer, and work a little louder, and shoot less with more care
And sing a little sweeter, and love a little longer, and soon you will be there
Here
All we have here is sky
All the sky is, is blue
All the blue is, is one more colour
One more colour
One more colour now