Scatter the roots of our passage tonight discard the memories we chose to survive all of our senses overshadowed by a song pining for strength and deprive from the strong..
When she was five years old there's cake and brightlights and when she was ten she became the maid's bride with temperance and beauty and salvation unknown a life isolated, heinous and young..
Stand up and face it although you're half dead try to remember though they've taken your head why we sleep fully dressed and rise only from bed who did this to us? who did this to us..?
So partial to memory the pearls of our dead but where do we keep them? put'em here by the steps while i climb to the top and i find where i am..