Colour of Dreams

Floaters and whites on, 

Water spray gun in a hand, 

And bounty of colours on another, 

They ran and ran amok the land, 

To county of the crueller Southern. 

Haven't they not seen it yet, 

Amidst all the fussing masks worn, 

Reached they not to our land.

We aren't even with this, 

We aren't over with this. 

Has it not for this plague it been, 

Has it not for this flake it been. 

Wanted a good day under the sun, 

Wanted a foot out i wonder there were none. 

Buzz. Buzz... Buzz, 

Does... she know ... It was half past five, 

And what a dream.