Sometimes I do Cry, 'cause we just shoot by, like a burning rock of consciousness reaching for the place that we knew once. Like Orbs being entangled, Love was the finest ornament placed on the mantle. Defaced was the hate in our angle, graffitied over it was a thank you; Thank you to whatever made this, possible, our gospel would say this, we were the greatest, our lateness will forever be early 'cause we were still grey kids. Play in the pen of eternity, as life sprung, Autumn will burn in we, Death was the early bird but the worm was free. I'm glad we were here b.