From pools of xylophone clear. From caves of memory. I saw the children at heart. That we once used to be. Borne on foaming seahorse herd. Compose with trumpeting shell.
Me and the wind are celebrating your loss. Me and the wind are pulling kites and pushing tress. Me and the wind are celebrating your loss. Me and the wind are feeling freer than air should ever be.
On a hanging garden ------. ----------- [babylon seat]. ------------- [baby batters]. ----------------------- [weak]. ---------- [hope you be great]. And the children have said their backbones.