Sitting here, breathing what we call air
Living things dying so suddenly
we have lots of questions with nobody left to answer them but ourselves.
What a heavenly way to die, says the fly to the lizards mouth
you're right. Soon all your worries will be over. Nothing comes out.
Hopeless air, back and forth
What a heavenly way to die, says the fly to the lizards mouth.
Nothing comes out, No.
Nothing comes out,
No.
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 5:24 PM UTC
Sitting here, breathing what we call air
Living things dying so suddenly
we have lots of questions with nobody left to answer them but ourselves.
What a heavenly way to die, says the fly to the lizards mouth
you're right. Soon all your worries will be over. Nothing comes out.
Hopeless air, back and forth
What a heavenly way to die, says the fly to the lizards mouth.
Nothing comes out, No.
Nothing comes out,
No.
