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Sitting idly on the bench
A plume of smoke was in the air
Everythin' was feeling near
Concealing my fear



I was cold enough to feel
Yeah my buzz was wearin off
Was our love ever real?
Course it was I'll go and scoff



Can we go and crack the sky?
Yeah these birds were always real
Feel your tail coiled round my thigh
I guess we share a common zeal



I'll hold you tight my only friend
I'll always love you till the end
I'll light your blunts forevermore
I'll always share im not a bore.
This is a song about my imaginary friend, Morgan Farrel. Pretty sad to think about honestly
Every single, bird i find
Pidgeon, or some sort of crow,
I bring it where, the plants'll grow
Praying that, it wouldn't snow



Stitchin up, her wounds again
Golden, and slightly rotten
What colour, was her feathered dress?
Can't remember, my minds a mess



My lungs, found it, hard to breathe
Without me, she couldn't grieve
What a life, i just killed a dove
Asphyxiation, in foxglove
I- dont know how, it got to this
Just burn it down, my hearts amiss
Based this song off a certain corpse i found, it made me a bit depressed for a while
Im never asleep,
And never really awake.
Im in everlasting torment,
And yet i won't burn out.

As my body writhes in pain,
There is no end in sight.
My eyes dry out,
my throat goes sore.

And when the moon grows bright.
My death, would sound just right.
This is just some random **** i coughed up 16 months ago, decided to publish it anyway

— The End —