There’s something about seven.

The surface it braces got traces of believing
It could even rhyme with eleven
Maybe that’s just it…it’s even
With the world’s scares we keep believing even
With all the cracks and the pavements

The Earth is still…even (evenly so)
Looking at the lives that get to cross its land

They are still breathing
Still feeling
Still…

Learning to stop the stillness
We count one-two-seven
The number of lives we’ll get to live before
We start to realise our breathing is not even

Oh but yes…
There’s something about seven.