How Odd To See These Lamps Still Burning

The crooked birds below you

Let me pierce you one way or another

I see clearly your shoes devine

My infashionable habit

Of strong white skin

Mourne it and don't look at me

He sat in your beautiful cafeteria

Corner of the magic let hall

You're tall, after you

Your endless growl oversees your boyfriend

You're still living

I'm the graveyard

I'm steve

I'm the pen cap's piling up

And my crooked, and my business

My one wheeled bicycle

It's a shoe store

I'm passionable about this snow white

You're decapitated

Blue, blue sky is opening

And now you're loving it

The sun is shining

It's forty two degrees

The captain barrel is hiding our stupid conversations

And even though we're growing up

Becoming less our father

It's a goddamn torture

It's a hard day for revenge

I'm not a figure on crests

For you're still stopped

Revenge is back seat anger

So stand aside