When it strikes you feel no painnI'm just satisfied trying to recreatenWhen we laughed lastnI hold the signnthem wooden boards of neon paint read,nhappy not the fastestngotta walk with itnnhappy not the fastestngotta walk with itnnHalf alien half angelnflying with one wingnor maybena stranger with his face to the skynnevery plane that draws a white line is a confirmationnevery seed grows its own vinesnit cannot stand stillnnface to the skynforget our whole selves laternface to the skynnwhen it strikes you feel no painni'm just satisfied trying to recreatenwhen we laughed lastni hold the signnthem wooden boards of neon paint read,nhappy not the fastestngotta walk with itnnwhen it strikes you feel no painni'm just satisfied trying to recreatenwhen we laughed last