see the sun there showing up
see the flower growing up
the one that's in your smile

let it grow there for a while

every spoken word's a lie
next chapter's written by the big guy
while all the poetry died
in our rooms where also died the quiet

the armour of the scarabeus
is what I'm hoping for
so I'm twisting around in my visions
to find the tree of life

it's my task to keep my skin
for the music and the pain to thin
for the fear and for my heat
for the women and my lead