The burning fox sits on the wall
And the mist clings to your kisses —
The skies bloom and explode into the black
As we watch Icarus fall
We ferociously ache for somewhere warmer
Orange trees drop their guns and dive for cover
You taste like hot squash —
But your brother tastes hotter.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
The burning fox sits on the wall
And the mist clings to your kisses —
The skies bloom and explode into the black
As we watch Icarus fall
We ferociously ache for somewhere warmer
Orange trees drop their guns and dive for cover
You taste like hot squash —
But your brother tastes hotter.
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