see the flower growing up
 the one that?s in your smile
 let it grow there for a while

 every spoken word?s a lie
 next chapter written by the big guy
 while all the poetry died
 in our rooms where also died the quiet

 the armour of scarabeus
 is what i?m hoping for
 so i?m twisting ?round in my visions
 to find the tree of life

 it?s my task to keep my skin
 for the music and the pain so thin
 for the fear and for my heat
 for the woman and my lead