When I die, bury me under a willow tree.
So I can be free, from this deity we call God, We call Alla, we call love.
Because of the dove told me, "The truth hides fraud."
To nod the waking hours, due to this pod. I bear a call to be taking, to start deflating. Under this tree, we so be believe.
To willows of one, the pillow of us. To control us, because of the narrow path to stake.
We take this time off to break, as well as time on. But this has only begun. A broken hope to vine, to chime us this time.
Never while under the willow tree. So we shall see.
