Really all that came to was a bright idea under lovely lamp light
Find the miracles and make sure the ash is white
Cut the cord be explored
Don't detest from a monarchs nest
Because the best is soon to come
And the mornings nearly done
I wrote the silver speckled sparrow
Flew over the moon
I'm a nuance with a mile
I threw it
To become that one faced trope
To be the one with the black jack
Found myself in Houston
Touching the limp side
Wait in for the road to become thin again
Like my lady's limbs
Witches try to look up to you
The more mixtures are just fixtures bolted to the wall
I'm a cunning illusionist living next to the urban crawl
I rather be simple
Find my body pick to it
Don't mind my numb thoughts
Better then my dumb love loss
Loped in the wind
Still can't get back up again
A wash.
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