I walk on a brick road covered with stones made from nature and bones. I made a bridge to reach you, a bridge made of fools. I felt the wind, water, waves. I saw the sun rise, I saw the moon land. As it feels across the sky, I was digging my grave. I finished that bridge one day. It was weaker with pain. Pain from the wind, water, and waves burned bridges, bricks, and bones. I felt the bridge fall one night. Flames and fire. It was so dire. It was a long fight. Made no sense to me, but I'm pretty sure you spit in it.