The door is always open,
and when you hear the bell
of some long-lost hell,
to crack the hardest shell,
my dearest Mel, you sell
the hope for a better tomorrow
no pain, no sorrow,
but all the glow, the flow
of Time will stop for now,
reap what you sow, to play
again in that place, in our case,
to see your bees, between the trees,
and eat the honey, Honey,
we did not care about money,
the future was too far away,
you choose to stay,
I chose to go,
and I don't know how
all that space came in
between all our dreams.
Or so it seems
for now.