The sunshine on my face,
And words I can embrace,
Fronds of endless leaves,
What does it really mean?
It doesn’t feel right,
It’s too good to be true.
With dawn’s pale light,
Shining bright, yet untrue.
Is this world really perfect?
Is this world really fine?
Is this all a simple tune?
Or will it defy?
The bloody light on my face,
And screaming words I can embrace,
Fronds of dried out leaves,
W...