I killed the angel who kissed me, and I must confess
I am the child, who sits alone. I write dreams, that
Hell must think Jessica is sexy, because it’s attracted to her like a moth
Happiness grows on trees, and the sky bleeds water. We flood the streets, as we kiss the yellow sun. Let’s run in cans,
We should be lovers, cause no one knows what it’s like
At the end of every dark tunnel, there is a brick wall
I’m peaceful like a dove, or a still pool of water.
I stepped foot into a chain and fell into a snow flake,
I have a puppet for all the clowns who make me laugh.
Can I sleep next to you? I need to feel secure, and there’s no one
Watch your step coming down from the stars, and remember to keep
I look at you, and I feel fine. You are the face
Mr. Wood is no good for this world, so he’ll write a goodbye
A stream that runs into a blanket, falls into a cloudy dream. A picture that
I’m a disabled mush room, who is mentally handicap, and can’t think