A Trunk Full of Dead Bodies

Overpass
it seems these wrists are made of concrete does this make sense or should I repeat myself again? a little more clearly all this time I have wasted making up a reality you'd think I'd get it by now you think it would sink in somehow just waiting for anything at all to come along reassuring the faults of what I've done I don't like my smile seems that everything around me is growing fast accepting is the hardest part patches of purple and yellow and my watery eyes From Letras Mania