In my squama it's hard to move. it hardens above me in the heaven there are ghostly paradise gardens voices from the past life build bridges to my sweet dreams but when I wake up tears are running down his cheeks
above the old bridge, I ascend let it burn in fire carefully I balance over the fire trying to rise higher
I shed my squama it was hard to move, it hardens don't wait me don't search for me forget me and my paradise gardens