terça-feira, fevereiro 12, 2008

Short

i am treading on cow pile mountains
before you answer my call
lounging at breakfast a recoiled monster
with tied mouth somehow telling all

before it breaks before you've listened
short stacks are sitting high
lips are dry maybe you're guessing why

don't mean to make you sick
it just works out that way
you say it's walnut bread
we know it's what i say