[bowl of oranges]

We don't have time for this my sweet, we must run,
from a thousand glaring faces intent on our demise.
From a million broken smiles, i dare to look at,
i can't help but discern a loathing in their eyes,
such a brutal semblance could bring a man to tears.
And tho they may drive us out,
they can't make me leave your thoughts,
the comfort of your sentiment,
where i'm safe, with you.

Yes, we must dash from this place,
faster than this axe is hitting the block,
we must wreathe a path to joy in haste,
yet so sly not a wisp of it shall be found.
more than that, we must weave a love so firm,
as strong as the rock upon which we build,
our life anew.

Yes, my sweet, they'll never catch us,
this i promise, if you'll just take my hand.