I set forth to an open crown
In a frozen cloud of a ghosting sound
I look back at the sunlit town
With the windows down and a grin-less smile
I play tracks to the hopeless crowd
In a melting fowl of a soaking scowl
I bet close that I'll make it out
Even if this night of the world comes down
I break hope of an endless prowl
Of a senseless style where the story howls
I fake clothes when I get too close to an open hose
Where the ending sprouts
My stake folds
Then I float and drown to escapе the dreams of a broken sound
But I makе soul with the Token Clown
And he looks at me, said "we'll do it now..."