Natalie sang a song, a blues about the world unknown.
She put her eares to the radiant crocodile and let the brain wash off her oval green spirit.

In the corner of the room a boy sat and craved for his lost love of fools.
He never knew things could be orange and yellow.
Colour was never really what he had dreamed about for all this years.
Now he was put down by a nation so big that he himself never could go back to the black and white.

Natalie gazed upon him, she was somewhat amazed by the pig in the closet.
Could she ever take magic to a level above?

What was there to come with golden arrows along the seaside.
Would somebody meet her in the floathing village of nearby passengers?

Take a hustle, whistle and blow.
Up, down, around the bell.
Racing with the firestorm, chasing the water chord.

Faking an entry to open the door.
Be at the softsquare.
Look into java.