Your hands ran so smooth, it’s black and gray, branches over our heads, hazy times once met. Our exquisite taste for bad books and plays took me out of a blue for a fleeting mirth. But you know, we’ll be just fine, Cause’ we’ve got it good the wind will keep us safe. Seed of mine, I will see you soon. There’s a man on the corner side howling things that might be half right, it makes me speculate on my wicked self. Well, I’ve shattered all the words that my soul goes by. With my filthy arms I killed purity. When the train gets home things won’t be so bad after all.
