This is opening nightnThis is the curtain call of lifenEtching with melody, scenery to the voidnAnd I bet we could paint themnAnd I bet we'd take our timenSlobbing sick ideas at themnUnder fake lightsnnWhat ever happened to the old tree and the conquered creek?nStand steady, cause there's etches in the harmonynNever found ...but we'd meet at the beachnWetting a red stonenAnd painting your facennAnd diving in to be rid of this beach colored paintnWe're all perfect imperfectionsnAnd we all have our own shoesnSo where we step is where we choosen