In the mountains, the goat climbs above. To a point of utopia and breeze, he climbs to the top. In search of an anwser, in search of a truth, to true to be taken, to true to be true. In time, the child cries, he weeps a song, of dispare and groan. With the future of the light embassador, I say soon my child, calm winds will fly. Your hair will flow smooth, your face will grow moved, then the day , ill see your eyes away. Good bye material lies, good bye thye old life, hello true eyes, good bye to the darkness that consumed my mind. I will follow the great goat, into the mountains of above. Then reach the top, grow wings and fly about.
