There Is A Garden In Her Face,
Where Roses And White Lilies Blow;
A Heavenly Paradise Is That Place,
Wherein All Pleasant Fruits Do Grow.
There Cherries Grow That None May Buy,
Till Cherry Ripe Themselves Do Cry
Come to the edge,
we can''t we are afraid
Come to the edge,
we can''t we will fall
Come to the edge,
and they came
...and he pushed them
...and they flew
