a song about me but mostly you,
it's a shame, I cant share it.
for you're not a rose but oleanders,
it was always my fault, too late for sorry
I'm sorry.
you already knew how I feel.
him, like the white noise of military submarines at 03:28,
the main character is never a villain my little inferno.
this one was written for a different life's you and I. not you and me.
still, my skull blooms to bouquets. thorned flowers. fed with sugar water and brandy.
overgrown my mixtape seeping to my throat, I'll hear when my skins clear and I'm lean.