Pond
The Weather
He sold out both his eyes
Yet sees her face
Her thighs in lace
Oh, why such waste?
Ghosts are only negative space
Ancestors, no blood
No place, no mark
Just voices, in the dark
The floor, is covered in champagne
The leather and the blood, and all the sudden rain
Man, you should’ve seen those cops' batons
The worst case scenario, survival game
He sold out both his eyes
Yet sees her face
Her thighs in lace
Oh, why such waste?
The floor, is covered in champagne
The leather and the blood, and all the sudden rain
And man, you should’ve seen those cops' batons
The worst case scenario, survival game
From Letras Mania