Tell me about past the clouds,
tell me of gold,
silver and gems,
buildings I've never lived in..
Tell me about streets,
about grass,
open meadows,
and pavilions with games,
that never end,
the screaming lasrs..
Past the clouds,
I look up,
because I'm down here,
on a street of sticky tar,
and a house that's made of glass and shattered.,
in a vessel hairlined across the bottom,
but it'll never show...
Tell me about past the clouds,
fill your head with my wine,
wash the glass with my tears ,
I've stopped believing,
so I'll be fine..
Gold,silver gems,
a piece ,a shard ,
let us pay you for what you've become,
everyone eventually hates who they are,
ripping out the scars,
trying to create a better picture..
Past the clouds,
I bypass a castle,
no one I want to know lives there,
swallow the gems,
make gold and silver sandals,
with wings and a harp...
I get the hell out of there.