We are jigsaw pieces aligned on the perimeter edge,
Intelocked through a missing piece.
We are Renaissance children becalmed beneath the bridge of sighs,
Forever throwing firebrands at the stonework.
We are Siamese children related by the heart,
Bleeding from the surgery of initial confrontation,
Holding the word scalpels on trembling lips.
Stand straight, look me in the eye and say goodbye, say goodbye.
Stand straight, we've drifted past the point of reasons why.
Yesterday starts tomorrow, tomorrow starts today,
The problems always seem to be, we're picking up the pieces on the ricochet.
This is the ricochet...