They taught me to make things count. Make things count. Make things count. The garden grows. The garden grows. No reason. No reason. Must everything be useful? Must everything be useful? A flower opens to nobody. A song dissolves into the sea. Nothing to prove. Nothing to keep. Must everything justify its existence? Everything. Everything. Let beauty be. Let beauty be. Let beauty be. I suppose I am a dreamer. A dreamer. A dreamer. Must everything be useful? Β©ππ΄ππππππππ ππππ. π¨ππ ππππππ ππππππππ
