An Ill Jest

Hey, flower, why do you grow so slow?

Does it spit for the sky? I love you so

Hold the soft hand of the red sun

And drift away until your troubles are done

Hey, mister, what troubles you so slow

It [?]

The river runs and I grim the skies

But the blue, blue, blue, blue river lights up the sky

Sweet-sweet bright, sweet-sweet bright

Hey you, don't be so slow

[?] to your [?]

I'll just, yeah, I'll just, yeah, yeah