Geese stray from the ocean blue,
And flee in a triangle.
But once a goose begins to drift,
The perfect angles they will tangle.

A velvet petal on a rosebud,
Blossoms into a perfect newborn.
But it will dance from its home,
In fear of the piercing thorns.

A star falls from,
Its home above,
  In hope of,
  A new found love.

So if the goose were to lie
If the rose petal committed suicide
The star become diamond in the rye

The goose would live a lonely journey
The star would have no pride
And the browning petal, hard as rock
Forever it will hide.