Sometimes I dream of the moonlight, and I ask questions, like if I was wet, could I walk through fire, and covered myself in dirt, and fell asleep, I quickly,

Wept a river of tears, I dreamt of him,

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Jusin Timberlake, I quickly used up, all my cash,

Creeping forward, on through the purple gates, dreaming,

Of blue moons and oceans, and poets, who fell, on a cloud of dreams,

How much tapestry have we spun, are the ovens,

Out of buns, flew too,

Close, a joke,

A funeral.