The place never really had the chance to get off the ground As it was the ground to begin We just stood there kicking tires: We knew it wouldn't fly Nor would it wash The time wasn't ripe So we stood there kicking tires In its dirty state, nothing can be done Let's wash our hands, call it a night:
Sanctuary Some think the place a castle in the air... A small gust of wind: out of sight, out of mind I've looked for a proper allusion to air barriers: Obstructing diffusion Every nail, every brick, every gnashed thumb Another step away from sanctuary