the sun turned my trees orange and
the skies match your ignorant hue
yeah so it goes
cut off all your hair
paint your nails a new color
scrub the dirt off your face
theres nothing underneath
yeah so it goes
drink all the cough medicine
and call him again and again
listen to an answering machine
until you can sing the lines
with pristine excellence
so it goes
read your book and write your prose
till the snow melts below you
it washes you away
the marks on your skin wont make a difference then
the itch in your groin wont raise a finger
so it goes
the world is turning round and round to a
nightmare
papers burning, scattering in the winter winds
*******