I cannot eat
you from here, please,
come closer.
You are a flower
blooming in the
wrong season, no,
this isn't always about
you. So when
I sing to you I
sing to wind and
it was you who raised
my voice, so
high only
bats can hear.
Ruby or blood,
I am gonna have them both.
You don't worry
anyway because it
is my growth.
It's not ************ anymore.
And nothing to
do with pregnancy. The
stomachache is
genuine -- so pure and poor,
melodious chemical reactions of leftovers.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
I cannot eat
you from here, please,
come closer.
You are a flower
blooming in the
wrong season, no,
this isn't always about
you. So when
I sing to you I
sing to wind and
it was you who raised
my voice, so
high only
bats can hear.
Ruby or blood,
I am gonna have them both.
You don't worry
anyway because it
is my growth.
It's not ************ anymore.
And nothing to
do with pregnancy. The
stomachache is
genuine -- so pure and poor,
melodious chemical reactions of leftovers.