Picnic few want

Sky is for fore-speech always
your voice in the airways

so wake those asleep Lord whose only reward is this life here

may the seeking not be
put to shame because of me

don't let those out looking for you find a dead end instead

light the way with fires
a seeking heart it requires

to the way you've hand picked I find you perfect set the picnic

dine or just stand far off
counting places on the table cloth

you look like we've all sketched think it's far-fethced your arms outstreched

avoids kisses and hugs
like a snake with earplugs

that ignores the charmers tune and stays immune to loving you