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Brown Hair In A Bird's Nest
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Owen
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Brown hair in a birds nest, A pile of teeth under a tree, The frayed sleeves of a poorly tailored jacket. Another wasted night, Searching for life. Digging up graves, 'cause I've got something to say to the dead and buried. You know how my mind it drifts, A small boat lost at sea. Callowed and rutterless, To say the least. I swear, on my mothers gravy, That I didn't lie to you. I was only, as usual, confused. It was wrong of me to curse your family's name, and your faith, And an answering machine, and I knew it didn't know how to use. For how long must I lie awake, For how many long nights shall I keep digging up graves. Well, I swear on my mothers gravy, That I didn't lie to you. I just didn't tell the truth.
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Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.
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