Alacrity (Almost)

Placed in absence of words
Spoken for redemption
When we couldn't simply speak
As if we were friends

Sing the singer's tune
They put their costumes on
Still we're not in line
And it's not where we should be

Our claims are made
And everything is fixed
With nothing to write home about aside
There's no sight of preparation

Oh how I wish I was so eloquent
And how we all had aptness
Pleadings away
Because we're almost home