Is there anyway i can fix it. Take out my tools maybe smash with it. Let me destroy the parts that annoy. . Swallow the words i'm saving. Fumble the chords i'm playing.
When the fists of winter fly. . Driving bones into the snow. Blackened frostbitten nights. Vodka running dry. The statues cloaked in white. . Migrants from museums.
Everyday on my way home. The clouds would break. And the angels would sing their refrain. . This world's an ungodly place. Strangled by vines unchaste.