The Music With No Lyrics Yet Ii
in the back of the room he leans on his side
hand in his pocket like theres nothing to hide
but a pocket knife and a clever disguise
watching me watch him, both deeply deprived
red strokes in his eyes like hes always high
his head full of truth and his mouth filled with lies
a bloody c ondom in his trash bag at home
and a girl wrapped in there with broken bones
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