Show me the way
To an apple orchard
thats flying away
with wings made of plastic
Savoring things
That don't belong to me
Where is this place going to go
When everyone's dead

And nothing can save them from the almighty rapture
and capture of memories
They wanted to keep inside with them
Naked and burning with Kerosene
and eyelids of innocent children wander
freely around the room, made of velvet

Shadows pass along the corridors and hallways
with mustard gas, and defective drum machines
nothing I take for granted stands in the place of the
tales of hornets and fisherman trials
of fire and tumbling
spirals out wild, like things that I'm making up
Show me the way

Show me the way
to an apple orchard
were flowers lay
all broken and dying
things once savored
still don't belong to me
where has this palce gone after everyones dead.