Rain taps heavy
on my fictional land
on my empty heart
How does it feel
to be one of the last
good ones? she asked me
But I’m a chore and a bore
with selfish metal arms
whining oil can oil can
all the way through
the forest.
Rain taps heavy
on my fictional land
on my empty heart
How does it feel
to be one of the last
good ones? she asked me
But I’m a chore and a bore
with selfish metal arms
whining oil can oil can
all the way through
the forest.