Me lack space in the spirit
The weekday is five stories high
And the deafening different distance
Between the brown bread breakdown
And you is a delicate delight
Crush cost
Just imagine your
Impossible impressions
Merchant mercy message
From morning to night
Hey miss brown
Object to the oak
You ought to turn the page
Take a peculiar pen and write
Your own instant
If somebody talks to you
Apply for proofs now
Don't be satisfied with a lack
Every time you say goodbye
You die a little don't take roots
Don't retire paint the painful page
Otherwise you only ought
To track the outline review
Put on your socks
Before you put on your shoes
Watch out
Mad dog is running loose
You've got two cars
You've got ten fingers
But it's never you
It must be others
Sleeping tight
Thinking of the past
I wonder how long
Is this gonna last?