I am a dead man’s
heart coming to a sputter
old rusty engine
I am the late summer
turning locust back crisp
ready to fall from a tree
I am time running out
on a scratched tuneless
record about to skip.
I am a dead man’s
heart coming to a sputter
old rusty engine
I am the late summer
turning locust back crisp
ready to fall from a tree
I am time running out
on a scratched tuneless
record about to skip.