Iris-Champagne

I said and I hoped, like a prayer; and sent out my tears in a bottle of notes.

Find and drink up; it's uncommon and sweet.

Are you surprised?

Isi itmaking you mine?

Are you the rock, paper, scissors casting those faded paper figures on the wall?

As providence seems to annihilate; common sense - this is my down-to-earth defense.

Either I am right or I am wrong.
If it's in neither the words nor the song, it's in this soundless, audible common sense.

Be that as it may, this is my down-to-earth defense.

Brush it off again as trickery, slight of hand.
If you must but for all purposes and intents.

Then, you morph into the last living thing alive.
I've no periphery; 

You're all that's in front of me.