Some other kind of mount
the sands who blow on me
with every time is past
which death is created of
dawning in and sunken down
into the quicksand made furry
with stick in hand and yelling out
when it's all melted down
it's all too brain slow
to drain and this all will be
hoob along to tres' sore
listen alls not ok
listed all your drinks sour
list in as it will be
this is all your dreams so
if it's down on tree
they'll all believe it's true
i'm full of love my dreams will come threw
but i want you to still believe me
tunneled in and sunken down into