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Painted Dream 
Medium
by The Dada Weatherman
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no we get older now
we'll be younger in our dreams
yea future's like everything you know
it keeps flowing down a stream
so let your pretenders choke on your dust
for you're the & the lust
you painted my blank canvas
threw colours like when you write a poem
the blues of the skies with the green of grass
all the into one
you told me that if something ryhmed with orange
it would certainly sound like a revenge
but i always thought it was strange
for you had the of the rages
then you blew the in your eyes
& turn pale & cold when you realized
is all we've had
& that's all we'll eer get
is no o-ther palce
to let our souls the sad
yea feet on a cold rock
i look through the brown leaves
at the broken clouds weaving free
we'll be younger in our dreams
yea future's like everything you know
it keeps flowing down a stream
so let your pretenders choke on your dust
for you're the & the lust
you painted my blank canvas
threw colours like when you write a poem
the blues of the skies with the green of grass
all the into one
you told me that if something ryhmed with orange
it would certainly sound like a revenge
but i always thought it was strange
for you had the of the rages
then you blew the in your eyes
& turn pale & cold when you realized
is all we've had
& that's all we'll eer get
is no o-ther palce
to let our souls the sad
yea feet on a cold rock
i look through the brown leaves
at the broken clouds weaving free
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( Automatic Translation )
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