While the sun is out, drain the water spout to the basin. A spider crawls about. Your mom brings the crates in, those yellow crates in.

While you're three years old, go fly to the moon for the summer. It's not all that cold; you won't need a jacket. It's not all that far away — leaving right now, it won't take a day. You can find your way by constellation.

While it rains outside, fold the couches down for the wedding, under couchfort by candlelight with an action figure bride. Tell the dolls not to be late. "Blah blah blah blah" will officiate. The stage is an old milk crate covered up in a sheet fresh from a drying.

While the back trees sway, shine your eyes this way for a moment. I've not much to say, and my language, you've yet to begin it. So I'll stick to lullabies, keeping it simple in compromise. At your childhood's demise, maybe then I'll tell you more.


Lyrics submitted by delial

Kayla's Song song meanings
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