Green lincolns, purple mercedes, red cadillacs, a long shadow and a field of roses. The black cloak, the face of a wolf, these eyes, it's wrong yet right. I can taste the barrel of a gun, touch steel, hear dod a chok and dad a cham, though do you know I'm really somewhere between the dream of here and the glow of nowhere. If this place is a lion I guess I'm lyin'.
Imagine that.