under the sycamore tree blisters don't hurt no more paths that lead to the quay ideas that go to a drawer rebels will deaden sense nightmares surpass the deed estimate your expense sycamore tree will concede
maroon beads dropping on the keys my nose unsecurely seeking a squeegee i need to wipe out the sense of bootlessness and go bare-foot through embers of good advice pizzazz is leaving me both my ends dripping looking for a trowel to lay images from my head to lay down seeing red
life and other shit what is where i'm bound to be why not there doing what so down to earth like never before treading heat looking out for a change of fleet sticky keys i'm typing my bread nobody sees you don't understand
