through piles of old film and memory,
paint the sky blue and green,
Live what you say and say what you mean.
Pick up the pieces from off the floor,
because they can't hurt you anymore,
and the spider in the attic has died,
so its in no use to hide.
Dance in the pale moonlight,
and make believe its all alright,
sway to the music of your mind,
you'll come to realize its quite a find,
when all you hear is others' thoughts.