Running, jumping, skipping fly. Nothing left to do but cry.
Take a look at one another. Uncle, cousin, sister brother.
We cant save you, not just yet Cause to me, you're still a threat
Shed that skin that you call home come with us and here you roam
Feather, cotton, linen, lace Into the seas without a trace.
Bunzilla King · Sat May 01, 2010 @ 06:58am · 0 Comments |