The Symphony Plays With Nature’s Crime

Born and raised with a lifetime. The symphony plays with its nature's crime. In this world we live in we are made of dreams, and dreams are made by us. Sweetness I hear you calling. You can easily make your own grave & dig down your past. Her head is twisting, or has the world gone crazy? The wise is paid to question the difference. While wounds grew. Let the choir sing its praisen verse. We have walked the path that we’re left to walk. Our footprints will chime its way through. Our shadows is drawn with white chalks. A self-made universe digs its own grave