Seclusion among the ferns of what seems like a mystical forest by flourishing elms and and oaks. Looking up at twilight's dwellings up above, where the stars sit on their perches to await dawn... That lunar crescent forever hangs there, just another star that seems so much closer, half covered by what you sit upon right then. That is a true paradise. Just to let yourself escape to those divine heavens...
Seclusion among the ferns of what seems like a mystical forest by flourishing elms and and oaks. Looking up at twilight's dwellings up above, where the stars sit on their perches to await dawn... That lunar crescent forever hangs there, just another star that seems so much closer, half covered by what you sit upon right then. That is a true paradise. Just to let yourself escape to those divine heavens...
Seclusion among the ferns of what seems like a mystical forest by flourishing elms and and oaks. Looking up at twilight's dwellings up above, where the stars sit on their perches to await dawn... That lunar crescent forever hangs there, just another star that seems so much closer, half covered by what you sit upon right then. That is a true paradise. Just to let yourself escape to those divine heavens...
Seclusion among the ferns of what seems like a mystical forest by flourishing elms and and oaks. Looking up at twilight's dwellings up above, where the stars sit on their perches to await dawn... That lunar crescent forever hangs there, just another star that seems so much closer, half covered by what you sit upon right then. That is a true paradise. Just to let yourself escape to those divine heavens...
Seclusion among the ferns of what seems like a mystical forest by flourishing elms and and oaks. Looking up at twilight's dwellings up above, where the stars sit on their perches to await dawn... That lunar crescent forever hangs there, just another star that seems so much closer, half covered by what you sit upon right then. That is a true paradise. Just to let yourself escape to those divine heavens...
Seclusion among the ferns of what seems like a mystical forest by flourishing elms and and oaks. Looking up at twilight's dwellings up above, where the stars sit on their perches to await dawn... That lunar crescent forever hangs there, just another star that seems so much closer, half covered by what you sit upon right then. That is a true paradise. Just to let yourself escape to those divine heavens...
When she transformed into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. They wanted her to change back into what she always had been. But she had wings. — Dean Jackson
