EVERY NIGHT I SPIT A BIT
writing words across the mindsince I can't remember
but still every night
I see blowing fake snow
through the green windows
of this shady bar and think
a red dress in the streets tonight
filled with chaos and despair alright
they understand by every turn
never time always tram tiny white line
freezing water on the throat
striking bubbles to the mind
I see the shiny cake blow
guiding vultures to the light
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