The last horse crossed the finish line
got over, and past the bustle
the distance from your soul to mine
god please, someone hit me with a shovel.
Taste of ash on my lips, plz come gimme a kiss
she came down from the arctic like a snow bunting
since she went out the door I couldn't stop buzzing
winter wastes, thrust into this ephemeral bliss.
The first song started.
remember what I said, et que tu n'est pas laide.
it wrenches and wrenches, struggling to be born.
until it bursts into hundreds of vibrant colors.
fragments of you and me, forever forlorn.
