Y/Your Arms Are My Cocoon/In october of 2019 i called a suicide hotline for the first time in my life
Cut through this clockwise fog I'm finding new substance in detail and waking up Embodied in reflective puddles and impulsive acts of clarity
Why go home?
Let go Dissolve into blossom I am the Beauty in the trees
Kind blanket skies Tear through my Willing flesh and bone to dust
In the wind In your skin Cloudless in melon-tinged sunsets And locked at the wristsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
