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The water, the water, the water holds the truth.
For i was the water. and the water, was you.
Atoms mingled the angels offered us the fruit.
And now we stand, we walk, our life no longer blue.
Through rows and rows and rows of soft soft soft cotton.
Church of Bob, cult no more, Bob said no, I'm not God.
We were believers so we wandered aimlessly.
But it was true. and Bob's light was, just that, Bob's light.
Still remains! our adventures, our explorations.
We will climb down, the ladders of what lies, within.
We both will descend, in the depths of the unknown.
I can see it there. I think. I can see it there.
Sometimes, when i'm a tree, i dance with the warm air.
Jealous, maybe, the birds put on displays of grace.
We are bound to earth, yes, but feel tides in our veins.
They are appeased, probably, and will flee winter.
We could go to a desolate planet named Pi.
And build temples in honor of geometry.
Monuments that would imprison, all fear, all pain.
Bob is a light. House of Bob is a house of light.
Moonlight, moonlight, in you, the music of the spheres.
Your minstrel tells stories of her nights in your arms.
Sometimes, when i'm a tree, i just stand there waiting.
Other times , when i'm you, i share all my secrets.
I dont always understand, in all this chaos.
Lady of the moon, tell us the stories of your nights.