Me lack space in the spirit The weakday is five stories high And the deafening different distance Between the brown bread breakdown and you Is a delicate delight Crush cast Just imagine your impossible impressions Merchant mercy: message From morning to night Hey Miss Brown Object to the oak You ought to turn the page Take a peculiar pen and write Your own instant If some body talks to you Apply for proves Now Don't the satisfied with a lack Everytime you say goodbye You die a little Don't take root Don't retire Paint the painful page Otherwise you only ought to track the outline review