I getting for the world, ready of the droll
The time-traveling honors never flowed
The feet on your flannel and the drink's in a smiling cup
Of seminal poetry, and the frisky stations that keep your cuckoo rockin'
In my present state of mind in the frame of the dogma
The dogs of the militants and edicts of the enemy
Listing your killings like the million operations
Like a speck of dust in the billions
The thousands waste and die and roll in the deep
Making my feet crawl in underwood for the dance
In the floor of the stop and the eighteen run-outs
And drive-ins could n't the flops and shows that sheet curled
Of the bar that was dry, saying this will be the day that I bite
Look if this ***** won't feel
Like the records on the old store shelf, reading these books is like music
The feelings so unusual, and the years are so beautiful
Will you get older with the seams on your face which smile when
Being at the broken edges seems right, I just about cut enough about
How cute you look when you are mine, in this plasticine face
Pinch of dust and light as leaves and the weather
Light as a feather, the discord, and the beat goes on
On a dethrones, the kings of their station of kings so cross
Turning around a creamy ****** coming hard on
With a hot fever and this unusual day will be when I die
Living beyond my dignity, and the price and the rights I print
According to my name, to fund it in vain and funnel it out
Of luck and stunted growth and the shortness has got me in the breath
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 5:59 PM UTC
I getting for the world, ready of the droll
The time-traveling honors never flowed
The feet on your flannel and the drink's in a smiling cup
Of seminal poetry, and the frisky stations that keep your cuckoo rockin'
In my present state of mind in the frame of the dogma
The dogs of the militants and edicts of the enemy
Listing your killings like the million operations
Like a speck of dust in the billions
The thousands waste and die and roll in the deep
Making my feet crawl in underwood for the dance
In the floor of the stop and the eighteen run-outs
And drive-ins could n't the flops and shows that sheet curled
Of the bar that was dry, saying this will be the day that I bite
Look if this ***** won't feel
Like the records on the old store shelf, reading these books is like music
The feelings so unusual, and the years are so beautiful
Will you get older with the seams on your face which smile when
Being at the broken edges seems right, I just about cut enough about
How cute you look when you are mine, in this plasticine face
Pinch of dust and light as leaves and the weather
Light as a feather, the discord, and the beat goes on
On a dethrones, the kings of their station of kings so cross
Turning around a creamy ****** coming hard on
With a hot fever and this unusual day will be when I die
Living beyond my dignity, and the price and the rights I print
According to my name, to fund it in vain and funnel it out
Of luck and stunted growth and the shortness has got me in the breath
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