It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day
These are the days that I fear,
these are the days that I live for.
Because the fear can't last, the planes
don't crash, & the clouds are pure up top.
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day.
These are the days that I pray.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done,
it's the neatest end that we've come from.
And the skies keep fissuring.
The world keeps turning, skies
don't keep on burning, 'cept at the 838 mile-per-hour
my mind goes to freeze the sun in my eyes.
It blinds.
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day.
These are the days that I pray.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done,
it's the neatest end that we've come from.
And the skies keep feeling fractal.
These are the days that I pray.
When the streetlights don't go out &
the skies change gray, I beg.
Because weather like this is for change.
When rain & sky never have a say
everything is here on the ground, I say!
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day.
These are the days that I pray.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done,
it's the neatest end that we've come from.
And the skies keep flashing flat.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done.
It's the neatest end that we've come from.
The light stays simple, the lives end late,
but the clouds don't have a say.
Because they're the days I fear to move
& do & be. Be neat.
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day.
These are the days that I pray.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done,
it's the neatest end that we've come from.
And the skies keep feeling frail.
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day.
These are the days that I pray.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done,
it's the neatest end that we've come from.
But the skies keep turning.
But the skies keep turning.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 12:03 PM UTC
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day
These are the days that I fear,
these are the days that I live for.
Because the fear can't last, the planes
don't crash, & the clouds are pure up top.
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day.
These are the days that I pray.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done,
it's the neatest end that we've come from.
And the skies keep fissuring.
The world keeps turning, skies
don't keep on burning, 'cept at the 838 mile-per-hour
my mind goes to freeze the sun in my eyes.
It blinds.
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day.
These are the days that I pray.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done,
it's the neatest end that we've come from.
And the skies keep feeling fractal.
These are the days that I pray.
When the streetlights don't go out &
the skies change gray, I beg.
Because weather like this is for change.
When rain & sky never have a say
everything is here on the ground, I say!
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day.
These are the days that I pray.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done,
it's the neatest end that we've come from.
And the skies keep flashing flat.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done.
It's the neatest end that we've come from.
The light stays simple, the lives end late,
but the clouds don't have a say.
Because they're the days I fear to move
& do & be. Be neat.
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day.
These are the days that I pray.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done,
it's the neatest end that we've come from.
And the skies keep feeling frail.
It's a wet gray cloudy traveling day.
These are the days that I pray.
It's the neatest writing I've ever done,
it's the neatest end that we've come from.
But the skies keep turning.
But the skies keep turning.
