see the sun there showing up
see the flower growing up
the one thatīs in your smile
let it grow there for a while
every spoken wordīs a lie
next chapter written by the big guy
while all the poetry died
in our rooms where also died the quiet
the armour of scarabeus
is what iīm hoping for
so iīm twisting īround in my visions
to find the tree of life
itīs my task to keep my skin
for the music and the pain so thin
for the fear and for my heat
for the woman and my lead
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