I'd break my legs to get there and burn my eyes to seem, A utopia tree shedding. Clay's gray bike is moving, move me through the ruins Of a memory fading. Without Words.. We convey a memory loss with such a stop sign style and live like branches breaking off and pissing on roots. I want to go back and lay in the shade, I want to climb to the top and spit on passing cars. I look at these times with sad eyes, but I'll never get back.