Your heart's a ceo in my new York paper

When your down
Your heart's a ceo in my new York paper

I can't train the days a schedule
Without you
News of subways gone
When coming back a deep loss
I'm felt as wordless editors

The headline won't graph
Tinsels a bath street dream
From Santa Barbara
In England we have a castle
For some reason bath is a word from there too

The social work of ink
The crest falls in blinks
At my waterfront
No baby will make the rents
In hell I've been
And true to poverty
There was no give only tells