Dreams like tissue paper
Mornings like flash floods
Stealing away mind crafted worlds
With a sun shining torrent
Of splinters and mud

If only we were dolls
With faces of porcelain
Then we could pick to pieces our paint on smiles
And see what lurks within

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.

Some one should call a docter
My heart just can't seem to beat
My mouth won't even shut
And somebody has nailed down my feet