The way Little Miss Perfect tells it, you'd think I was head of a gang of street thugs when I was a kid. We weren't thugs, we were twelve. All we wanted was some prize money, or at least a bit of ... [+]
And live for hundred years long
From a tiny seed to a big wide trunk
Where there are floods never is sunk
From tiny twigs to dividing branches
Where leaves would sit and birds sing their song
A tree would stay and play its dances
Albeit the time keeps moving on
If in my second life I could choose to be
Something, I’d choose a tree
For under its shelter I kept memories
And thoughts of you and me