Stumbling on the lawn,

is the white tower.

Built in one day and collapsing the other,

the paint leaves your surface.

the weeds are fed, as the climbing vines.

Flying, the diligent bees,

from my brain to the blooming flowers,

devour the honey and say:

vanish, vanish, to the other side.

vanish, vanish, in the best dawn.

For sure, for sure and yeah.

on the happy chord,

down the scarlet curtain,

tap dance,

be my step.