drinking in the showers of chardonnay.
Oh, on your behalf
we chose a feel for your fingers
How could we know
that your adolescence would rebel such?
There were fires in the dark
that lit up our hearts and our fists.
The smoke of our voices
made a smog under the roofs of our mouthes
Disappointment is natural,
when you rot our dreams.
No, we do not wish to speak for you,
but we wish you would say our words.
Hiding under the tye-dyed bridge,
your idle hands held a horrific shape.
Harsh it may be, it's natural
when you rot our dreams.
Stop, your tears do no good here,
when our tears cannot hide you
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