Fools and finicky frolickers filibuster.
We rob ourselves of aching love stories.
An exile is only as sweet as the return;
Broken hearts are resurrected by the imminent pounding
Of those ostentatious war drums.
Let buried flags speak their truth.
As the fires spread, so will the stars dance.
The lit up sky will rain wishes.
Sing along to a new uncompromised folklore.