live press on oil shine
its’ wet
you’re underneath the carpet
it floats and it changes the eye
sitting here still thinking of
I heard, you heard, the seabed
now what can I do
this is when the waves still turn
it was you i think I ask now
what else burns
stream flow with a trickled energy it is
but I’m not sure if the blokes are broke
yellow is the eye of the cat that lays
but for you the lights dance
I’m leaving today
fill all of the wooden beam
dancing to mozart,
expressing a scene thats not meant to be silly with a mask
a quiet 