all of the raspberries gone from my hands and when the water runs low i sly against the house and hold the walls in my birchtree arms the lake smells awful today and every day the birds come and take little pieces of my body away with them we are the same underneath these stains my portrait is still learning how to dry and i am following them into the woods tonight i will find their paintings and their cars i will be quietTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
