my thoughts linger like impossible
so improbable that i could carry the world
Atlas, you must have something I dont.
when the autumn leaves no longer sway
making room for the winter breeze
when people make profits the only way to live
we are reduced to producing machines
the radio plays in my ear,
I'm reminded of times that I wasnt there
when life plays before my eyes
I wish I were older in years.
I wish for joy to turn to tears.
...yeah
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment