King Me
Cut my chair again. Remove the legs. Tie them to the fireplace. We will create a silhouette of dreams from the smoke coming out of me.
Your hands are like spiders, caught in a jar, left out in the sun to breathe. Clear opaque teeth.
Will I fail to hear the rain?
Hide me in the library from the One with feathered eyes. A note left on the floor. This floor, it goes on for miles and miles. I laid the tile, black and white checkered.
King me.
Your hands are like spiders, caught in a jar, left out in the sun to breathe. Clear opaque teeth.
Will I fail to hear the rain?
A suttle wind, just the same as before.
I let You and the breeze in to cool my core.