Under The Sheets
In a home of paper
You write all over me.
There’s a park
To run about
And a yard
To set your mind on.
The streetlights think.
The jet planes farm and mumble.
We are under the sheets.
You write all over me.
There’s a park
To run about
And a yard
To set your mind on.
The streetlights think.
The jet planes farm and mumble.
We are under the sheets.