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Artiste:
Morning...
Titre:
The Red Room
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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i had waited patiently made some moves real quietly watched helplessly as, on its own, it became poetry. i had never liked this story, 'cause it never ends quite perfectly, and as much as i want to spit it furiously, it's better that i don't. there is one tiny place that i keep you in, and i use it to get warm. oh, my loneliness is a dream! my room arrives, inside a floating box that follows the sunset wherever it goes, and in it, i tell you anything. i have morphed painstakingly there is nothing left of me yeah i think that habits are everything, and bad habits plant you like a seed. i have always liked this place, 'cause i know we all need our space but i can't move through yours anyway. so keep it and keep on your way. there is one tiny place that i keep you in, and i use it to get warm. oh, my loneliness is a dream! my room arrives, inside a floating box that follows the sunset wherever it goes, and in it, i tell you anything but i didn't tell you anything, no, i didn't tell you anything. and to the pretty girl who doesn't know me anymore: i am much better now that i didn't.