And flowers sound to death
Away from all you got the ground
Where you lean your feet everyday
In Order to fly
You have to be ... Free
How do you archive freedom?
Freedom is a death trap
Or by other mean, it's a lie..
We can never be totally free
There's always somebody starring
Somebody to judge you
Somebody to say that waht you believe it's impossible
Or unreal, or even Unreacheble
Then they tell you
Sky isn't heaven
And Flowers are not death,
you got my hand, snap ot of it.
You take their hand,
Sooner or later they stab you
now you're the one who is on the other persons graveyard
the one who has the flowers on
and the one who is neither in heaven or in hell
