kompressor
my timing maybe aint quite right
but its a scene ive played over
and again this wooden trim
and foam in my head rings too
loud like falling curtains and
misplaced handshakes.
but its a scene ive played over
and again this wooden trim
and foam in my head rings too
loud like falling curtains and
misplaced handshakes.
we are all the christmas lights
ever burnt out or unplugged,
wiping rain from my brow
and that scratching itch in the
back of my mind i’m an
open tab on a credit card
thats not mine give me
a lit. class and i’ll give off
fluorescent light you cant
reach and dont try.
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