Me lack space in the spirit   The weakday is five stories high   And the deafening different distance   Between the brown bread breakdown   And you   Is a delicate delight   Crush cast   Just imagine your impossible impressions:   Merchant mercy: message   From morning to night   Hey Miss Brown   Object to the oak   You ought to turn the page   Take a peculiar pen and write   Your own instant   If somebody talks to you   Apply for proves   Now   Don't be satisfied with a lack   Everytime you say goodbye   You die a little   Don't take root   Don't retire   Paint the painful page   Otherwise you only ought to track the outline   Review