Twenty-Four First Graders

There's a rose|painted on your wrist|In July|everyone sees it||Feels as if|you've got a secret|Written on|your skin||No one can teach|twenty-four first graders|To walk straight on the streets|So maybe we'll just leave it as it is||And stay on the track|Of daylight and sunflowers|I still don't know how we found it|Maybe we deserved this little brush of happiness||There's a heart|with a happy face|Giggling|in between the clouds|Don't you know|We become the words we say|The flowers that we paint