Yaya

If we're good we will address, all the love we're holding still, by train or water to confess, take time out to pray, where we'll drink our fill, GPS to mend our heartache, shape our days on roads at best, our eyes beyond the hills, help us face each duress, desert bones a skeletal frame, a map, some water, we are shrill, at the sight of early rain, who decides to give us rest, will a ship bring a thrill, our flight to change address, hope's more than any caress, with other nights to kill, fix our battered compass, keep us going 'till.