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In dreams like these become the seeds with which we place the light beneath the ground has not the breath to seek why now deep creek choose breeze horse fleasTheir arms are mean and jokes discrete could seem of mangos in the treeshigh in the air, the blue turns green, season too late, tea and whiskey,Towards vans that were not ever seen and this I'd have nothing writtenthe dreams like these that once have been,they'll never cease to be again,When we're gone, will you remember me?will they want to know what we used to see?can these chains maintain the writing on the wall?or like me, will these too one day fall?Or will they crumble to the sea,while creatures that I've never seen,come to be how they will be,exactly how they want to be.Up and then,down down downup and then,down down downup and then,down down down From Letras Mania