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• Artiste: P.S. Eliot
• Titre: Crosseyed
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your eyes go crossed eyes like mine you'll regret that when you're older carefully sturded pride and a chip on your shoulder and i think maybe i'm better i think may be i'm better off my wit goes limp again maybe there's something about you we circle a sanctum and avoid the lucent break through take planes and trains and 95 straight up subdued sentiment planes and trains and 95 straight up this just feels fitting i cross out these memories of sanctity i cross out this memories, it's a funny thing i choose this immunity that consumes me i cross out this memories, it's a funny thing your eyes open wide in an open-handed effort our strong minds can collide without this vigilance we exert and i think maybe i'm content i think maybe i'm complacent i cross out these memories of sanctity i cross out this memories, it's a funny thing i choose this immunity that consumes me i cross out this memories, it's a funny thing