Flowers wait to unfold
As june melts our mountain cold
Fireworks smoke aloud in the morning sky
We bet we can fly
But the man’s falling by the hill spilling warm wine
And blood to the ground.
The saint looks here from afar
Looks like he just laughs
And we cannot find a damn word
While the fireworks shine
We still guess we can fly.
Flowers just live one day and they never cry
Don’t think they will die
The saint himself laughs aloud yet he laughs of the time
We spend stuck to the ground.