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• Artiste: Nineteen Forty-five
• Titre: Sylvia Plath
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oh, I'll be the summer clothes she wears on the beach lying out on a sheet reading Sylvia Plath and oh, I never thought it'd be so cold buried in the sands we see with our hands touching in the dark. and leave, I think we've gone too far her feet are still sore and some local punk just stole my guitar we're flames falling from the sky in ribbons of red that tie at her head for framing her eyes and oh, the water becomes so cold the winter has eyes with more suicides singing in their cars but oh, I'll be her summer clothes she wears on the beach lying out on a sheet reading Sylvia Plath...