Staring through glasses with no lenses   At a tree climbing the sky.   Our father seems to have lost his senses    As he stands before our burning home      With an olive branch in one hand, the other holding circumstance;   Evidence, if you will…    Gasoline dreams from a wishing well.      I was so young; we were so innocent at a time when innocence made sense.   The flames laughed at us as I held you in my arms.   Youth would not be wasted on us; we both have come so far.      What have I become? How could this have happened?   I was so careful, I wore the garbs of a saint with stained-glass cufflinks.   I’d forgotten what I was looking for.   Power is flowing but the bulb is blown,   I have no faith to call my own.      With an olive branch in one hand, the other holding circumstance;   Evidence, if you will…    Gasoline dreams from a wishing well.   As I stumble onto broken knees, screaming at broken sleeping ghosts   On a hill with three trees…   The royalty is coming for my loyalty.      Even Carpenters make mistakes, measure once cut twice.   I am so very apathetic.      You abandon me.      Cradled in my mother’s arms, my reserves have been set free.