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...