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Sleeping in the beetle bug |
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With a hundred pounds of air in my heart. |
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Don't think that I'm able to sympathize, |
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I'm happier to see it gone. |
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Floating above your house like a penguin |
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Dropping cherries from my mouth. |
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Tapping the walnuts |
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and the shadows out of a dreaming |
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Pair of brown eyed ghosts. |
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|
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In each of your eyes, I saw it's spring, |
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Where every mouth wakes up to a smile and a yawn. |
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Grass is long and laughs |
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when the wind jumps through it. |
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|
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It must have started with that stick in the mud. |
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That there's where clouds are born. |
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Clouds can't stay where they are born. |
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Winds push them so far from home. |
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The sound of your laughter |
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Tiptoeing across the floor |
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makes the deepest of red umbrellas |
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able to inflate my smile. |
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|
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In each of your eyes, I saw it's spring, |
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Where every mouth wakes up to a smile and a yawn. |
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Grass is long and laughs when the wind jumps through it. |
