Spanish Gold, 2044 - Swan Lake

Oh, we are nothing but what always leave behind

Withering into the sun

Side color nearest humming bird on a wire

Eyeing the cloak of the sun

Yes, we are nothing but what always leave behind

And this Canadian poetries and incantations and a bullet on a ride

I haven’t read them, I will not read them

For they dwell too much on times

Yes, the desert is at sea and

I left this bullwhip with the night stand

Julliard was a thousand miles away

Where are you gonna run when the clouds break?

And the sun peaks it eyes with attitude and rises itself on big lust lust

Feeling in big ranges rocks

Feeling in the big ranges rocks rocks

Feeling in the big ranges rocks

It signifies I am being petrified in all the rolling shit we left behind

White pages of ages rocking the paint of ages

Looking at your graceless depictions of life

To read

There shall be nothing left to write

And that’s when I cannonball them all

I left this bullwhip with the night stand

Julliard you were a thousand miles across when you said it drops

Feeling in the big ranges rocks

Feeling in the big ranges rocks rocks

Feeling in the big ranges rocks uh

La-la-la-la-lum