Yellow backs of chair
we're in a classroom
it's outer space
I can see through your shirt, almost to the
skin
we're in a machine, we are strangers
I want the shirt to
show your heart
It should be there somewhere
in contrast with the green chalkboard
we might be on to something here
We are kids inside the classroom
your hair has some rust inside it, your hands play,
we should learn our lesson
I don't know you
I love you
Let the world turn away, let the oxygen strip itself in air
Books are burning, schools out
Apples are rotting
It's bad. I have a knife I'm not allowed to have
this is unveiled love
as we
will
come to know of it
Apr 20, 2011
Apr 20, 2011 at 10:03 AM UTC
Yellow backs of chair
we're in a classroom
it's outer space
I can see through your shirt, almost to the
skin
we're in a machine, we are strangers
I want the shirt to
show your heart
It should be there somewhere
in contrast with the green chalkboard
we might be on to something here
We are kids inside the classroom
your hair has some rust inside it, your hands play,
we should learn our lesson
I don't know you
I love you
Let the world turn away, let the oxygen strip itself in air
Books are burning, schools out
Apples are rotting
It's bad. I have a knife I'm not allowed to have
this is unveiled love
as we
will
come to know of it
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