Dying Light of a Desert SunYou always do itthe tearing from my eyesof precious moisturethat's reservedfor more important mattersthan your petty lies & deceptionsthe ways you hide behind arrogant sneerswhen you don't care about meor the notes I earn taken from secret places where I choose to hidethe things that mean something to meinvasion of privacy it's calledby laws you really don't care forshould make me angry I knowbut somehow - somehowI feel pity for youthat something in your life has made you the way you arebut pity you will finddoes not make me a doormat anymoreand opening a doorhurried suitcase packedold walking boots on my feetth
Sta.sh
