They played in the Garden of Eden,
After hours, when the street lights when out,
And the pavement cooled down,
They drank from green hoses,
Fine aged wine in a different world,
He gave her a boost,
Soft hands on bark,
So close to touching the moon,
The earth beneath her,
No fragile wings opened,
They chopped down the tree the next day,
No Garden of Eden,
And no little girl to play,
He spends his days making paper airplanes,
Thinking of the sky that took his bestfriend.