Father dropped sand and glued glass to my head,
In them my means trembled out old habits,
Flutters lift covers to leave prints in order,
While your style feeds signs to show what one is,
You followed while gods design embraced progress,
Sitting in circles of me, me, and you,
We compare tree tattoos with what we believe,
Context takes speed, smears debt as cleaner,
Middle loves tears but mixes in happy,
Sun sat with me the big beat up softy,
Clouds the ground birthed and nurtured speak for you,
All I can say is that I'm addicted.