(an improvisation in D-Minor)
Ended up living in a red fascist caravan on the edge of a green desert...
And it could go worst boy.
I sold desserts on your doorstep just to hear you scream my name,
bought a book about zen that is driving me insane.
"How to be a pickup artist" hope that she will never know,
I had some yogurt for dinner but I imagined it was snow.
Girly my sun is in my earphones, still searching for the sand,
I shall drop it in your pocket from the hourglass of my hands.
0 comments:
Post a Comment