Sing me a song of velvet birds
Of smoke and thunder in the sky
A rhyme of Johnny's devil herds
The bloodless cowboys' mournful cry
Hum me a tune of butterflies
Their bones dissolving on the stream
A lullaby of slow surprise
The acrid smell of oil and steam
Tell me a tale of purple rain
Falling onto a golden field
Lilt me a line of gentle pain
As the soft ground begins to yield
Sing me to sleep, let me escape
To distant, rambling plains of sleep
And as my violet thoughts take shape
I pray myself my soul to keep
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Those who say something is impossible should not interrupt the person doing it
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