The charm is being doled out.
The healing has begun.
The smiles are now warming…
Their eyes have twinkled at the sun.
It’s Mr and its Mrs.
They’re riding on that horse.
The one that’s blowing kisses.
Without the use of force.
We sure are going to miss them.
You can almost hear their thoughts.
Their fears have all lost their masks.
Their stomachs are in knots.
I think it’s time to let it go.
The fiddler you must pay.
You dance with who they tell you to.
Or you best be on your way.