You’d never be sorry
to see the wound or the
gash, in crumpled leaves
water trickling down
parched throats, thirsty
this isn’t a desert
this is a song
volleys dilly dallying
You’d never be sorry
to see the wound or the
gash, in crumpled leaves
water trickling down
parched throats, thirsty
this isn’t a desert
this is a song
volleys dilly dallying