I walk to small tan yellow brown stones building a long golden wall, thousands of small tucked notes inside, writing a long curvy note, showing my gold key to my large soul opening a silver small locket showing my red beating bump inside my black stormy mind.
I keep walking miles down this long black hill to see scratchy land, where blood has fallen to floor, where soldiers died to save little trees growing in brown soil, where yellow gems shine through small brown stones.
I hear my red beating bump listen to my black and yellow lion roar in my jungle with black, red, yellow circles leaves growing, my lion sparkles in the blue moonlight showing me gold keys.
These gold keys open long narrow escape bridges to red beating bumps finding my gold domes, glistening inside my pink heart echoing my voice while I keep singing touching a small curvy stone, letting my gold key fly to my pink butterfly.
Gold keys open little tunnels where precious gold gems shine, I walk through long narrow tunnels seeing kids laugh, seeing gold tears stream down a girl’s face, hearing blue birds saying, “chirp, chirp, chirp,” letting his sound be heard to little kids kicking a soccer ball.
I keep walking, capturing my yellow gems in narrow tunnels, in narrow brown stones making blue broken cages fly in wind escaping black huge monsters running towards me.
Running, capturing gold growing inside pink flowers, growing in my pink large heart, gold tears keep coming down my face while people keep singing, seeing white snowflakes fall, running through slush of broken ice, where gold keys let my pink butterfly fly to catch my gold note.
I keep my gold spirit living in long curvy black streets where motorcycles zoom past me, where I walk fast over curvy long hills climbing to see gold form inside my beating white spirit telling me to capture my gold tears
Capture my white spirit driving my heart to keep racing while red birds chirp, gold tears keep coming down, I keep moving through slush of broken ice, trying to let my pink butterfly fly towards gold nests sitting inside small brown stones.
I keep writing my own notes, sticking it inside cracked brown stones, closing my eyes, touching a brown stone, creating my own blue electric voice roaring while gold guitars strumming playing gold music notes, while my gold tears come down my face letting my pink butterfly fly.