w88 of da w1nd

8 1 0
                                    

I used to write good ryhmes its true
Now all I can do is think about you
I'm objectifying you and making you out to be
A stolen figure from my head of imagery
I know they dont make sense
But my words glorify you and I'll repent
If the weight of the wind won't knock me down
Bring a hurricane to take me away and leave town

Whatever Comes To MindWhere stories live. Discover now