Voiced thoughts. Jungle dark ladder trees scrub stars above a listing wall where lies forked bones. Isolated fear wild, laughing clowns slip through a gate where stand four weary lions mad for dungeons bled by matadors from Spain. Shepherd this one around hard, cold, clay floor until the skin falls off dead arms and hands meet along the beach before sweet music shouts ole! deeply shielded castles sunk in sand. Shadowed ghosts shake pink broken shells along mind's waves with lying tongues of fortunes near upon the crash of silver waves spooned lives drag wisdom's treasure chest pass shipwrecked souls waltz inside a ballroom marbled with glass.