The death-house is burning
I hear the screams it's turning.
Can't cancel out the guilty pleasure
It's over so why is there no treasure?
I did all you told me to get you back,
The things I did to get out the black.
I burned down the line we kept on crossing,
So we could fall in the middle of the causing.
YOU ARE READING
Drunk under a Streetlight | poetry
Poetrypoetry /ˈpəʊɪtri/ noun literary work in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature.
