It'll be easier that way, like pouring rain, the ashes and the dirts, the silver plates, the drugs and the starry nights.

I don't want to be, what I saw in him, in the dream, in the shelf.
He wasn't find anybody when he was in the shelf.

Well if we take all the dreams and take them apart,
Pray and hope it turns out to seeds, to roots and then grass,
Or if the sky opened up, and the rain start pouring down,
Like He knew it was time to start things over again?

Springs bloom but I'm not ready to go.