Porcelain pots, and my hair needled into knots,
I try and think of better thoughts
But ghosts they follow, and they haunt, and they turn my face something gaunt
And your traits you do flaunt,
With the depth of your angles unseen by most and my brain is burning, like toast,
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
Porcelain pots, and my hair needled into knots,
I try and think of better thoughts
But ghosts they follow, and they haunt, and they turn my face something gaunt
And your traits you do flaunt,
With the depth of your angles unseen by most and my brain is burning, like toast,