i don't mind. strings find their way into my knot.
ooo.
you're this kind of beautiful,
you find your way past your scars into the sink.
well if we could diagnose or dispose
you would find yourself with your dog in the trash.
the skyline melts with me
and the waves crash into the
i don't fucking mind.
ooo.
but if you come up sometime to reach some air
send me a message to fall from up in the air.
oh, i sent you a note, it's in your mail BOX propped against a cd with my bad robin williams impersonations.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment