It was trusting too much
Little blue crackled and black is the shell
Loving like death march, from here to Chicago
Pulling the last stitch on route to Seattle
Connection right? Is that how you say it?
Gangrenous couture. Sleep in it, breath the wit
Right aisle is cannon ball hall
Mulholland drive and pine crest court.
Fiction failing us, we have to face it
To heart to heart, the vision, it’s wasted.
Kids just looking
Red tiled floor
Baby doesn’t have a penny, for a tootsie roll anyhow.