I'm not sure how i feel about this attempt at phonetic perfection
It seems like a choirs writing prior to being forgotten
It's a sign of change, a shift in range, and new choices gotten
Inside, we will still deny what it was I was becoming
Instead I chose a lyric to blow before the forced succumbing
Inevitably my lingering singing spurred on the burning
Icy, our homes were worn and torn from years of impoverished neglect
I think what we build shall withstand and remain erect
I've grown now. The world will know we're perfect
