These few weeks of rowing around these lakesnHave moved faster than the breaks in between the smoke and the recoil routinesnBut the harvest is on the minds ofnLone farmers and the millions too manynnOpen up the flues and let the ashes escapenThey've been breathing in smoke for too long and some have fallen asleepnAnd forever is a lifetime,nThe pulse stays static and everyones got some found addiction to depend onnnWe'll throw on our costumes and realignnThe chemical structure that keeps us in linenCause I've got this plan, that seeks a lot of timenI've got this plan that seeks a lot of timennSo throw out your plans and put down your rusted hands, the day is on younStop waiting to speak, you keep your allies close to hear what they might have seennPoor focus has blurred out the lines and the millions too many