You snipped you brown locks
off your twisted head.
Now chained to another princess’s bed.
Your affection is like the smell
of chlorine on a rusty day.
Do I want it to leave or stay?
You made the white flowers
grow within me.
Now go ahead and sip the tea.
My body and soul
can't be threatened by your stare.
Our feelings need a wheelchair.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 8:36 AM UTC
You snipped you brown locks
off your twisted head.
Now chained to another princess’s bed.
Your affection is like the smell
of chlorine on a rusty day.
Do I want it to leave or stay?
You made the white flowers
grow within me.
Now go ahead and sip the tea.
My body and soul
can't be threatened by your stare.
Our feelings need a wheelchair.
