Jan 2017
Your skin is sheet white,
And your mind carries scars.
Your hair isn't clean much,
Lungs black with tar.
You love to argue,
About how ****** up we are.
But I still love you.
And your mind carries scars.
Your hair isn't clean much,
Lungs black with tar.
You love to argue,
About how ****** up we are.
But I still love you.
