By Arcassin Burnham

Peanut butter cookies on my red roses
Too many vices for all your excuses,
Sue me for not liking any of my coaches,
I'm hoping,
That you give me the tools that I need
To succeed,
My heart is not filled with greed,
But this is too **** depressing,
I need something to fulfill the needs,
Swear I'll never know what heaven means,
Where the truth resides,
Blowing smoke in the air where
The red rain hides
In your mother's eyes,
Blowing smoke in the air where
The red rain hides......