and when I get the better of myself
i'll absorb in my own purdah
and i'll cry alone secreted
and the saddest part
you want to know the saddest (feeble) part
there is not even a sob sound or tear for this cry of me of mine
i'll swallow it down with a tinged lip in a raging stomach
leave
the stitches for the stomach lining
because let's face it
nothing is sewing my thought up
sow sow sow
said seeds will grow
sow sow sow
sore seeds will grow
and we (I) say this
and we (I) say that
and we say everything and anything
precision's taint said lost on my me
but the clarity of my heart is intact
hard fist to troubled temple then i'll breathe again
rub my bloodshot eyes in hope to
see a better day tomorrow
