The elegance, the shadows on long grass on the last days of August ghosts of the recently past calling, exploring before us a balance here is struck in the flowers and the thorns once forbidding cruelty and beauty entwined swept up and blown on the four winds and thrown on the four winds keep me in days of perfection freeze me these days of perfection the riddle's writ in all of this passing never ever returning but if you want every day could be just as perfect