There's a little black hole at the end of my room.
Where a little black man sings sorrows to the moon.
Now a little black spot on my heart springs my doom.
But little won't stay little unless she comes home soon.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 5:05 PM UTC
There's a little black hole at the end of my room.
Where a little black man sings sorrows to the moon.
Now a little black spot on my heart springs my doom.
But little won't stay little unless she comes home soon.
