well a forest fenced becomes backyards. like songs are born from sound
and the apple fell and it taught us all we are chained here to the ground.
so here we go but there ain't no escape these streets, they're just dead
ends so i won't ever be happy again well, it seems you too, see a painful
blue, when you stare into the sky you could never understand the
motion of a hand waving you goodbye. but as the story goes, or it is
often told, a new day will arise, and all the dance halls will be full of skeletons