we gallop the birches with our strep throats our tired lungs like accordion bellows we are born from mountains, our mouths are full of sand we hide dusk in our pockets and we live off the land
my bones are made of wood carved from evergreen my skin is math equations it's so hard to be clean
his brother will be my brother or no one will keep secrets anymore and we will walk the ocean floor for just one terrible moment of warmth
we will never die, thenTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
