O' god, Let that baby bud... O' god, Let that baby bud...

Made of mud and will return back to my prior position. Made of mud and will return back to my prior position.

The poem shows getting clogged in the mud of memories. The poem shows getting clogged in the mud of memories.

It is raining Raining in the winter. Happy, happier but not the happiest. It is raining Raining in the winter. Happy, happier but not the happiest.

Out through the same bars. But one saw mud, And the other stars. Out through the same bars. But one saw mud, And the other stars.