We’ve walked We have walked on sands of which The smell reminds me of my birth And now I walk alone over abstract Patterns of tiny leaves amongst concrete Pathways to slow burning rooms of Egos and faulty believes in modern Definitions of morality lost Wander upon upstream and Downstream of your cold hearted Hills where lies these feathers Of our faith and future I pick a pair and set it upon My bull, she won’t mind But she won’t come see me If you do, you can keep one And I will keep one To make a memory for lives