Xylophone emerald beaming
It's supersonic lulls of scenery, my rockery

Rock salt for rockery of ice in my garden
When transcendence saw coincidence

Depravity in the xylophone emerald city garden
Where deck chairs are unperson
Where music isn't in space
Where colour is affected by

The person whom opens the backdoor
Oh my rockery, frozen in time
With death and other negative criteria.

Electro chemical, buried treasure
Liberty March, island pleasure

Hyper warping, together better
History's torch, lit forever

Why won't they talk to me?

Space dust Mitochondrial dna, we are
Enraged happiness's ascension day,
For us

Space jump but I never sequestered
Unrequited love, my ethos
Requested

Your juice, your guts, all what you see and saw
But they still won't talk with me?
To let us to talk with us,
Why?