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Republic of Trees
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32 Pages
What follows is a list of my crimes
No lachrymose song will save me from the past
Before falling on my sword would be advised
Then to lead you through the day with open ire
When all my dreams of you would wash away
If I could only remember your face
All will be revealed in 32 pages
All desires concealed within a plastic casing
Stories of your charm
You try and leave and I'll break your arm
How hollow are whispers in the dark
It's hard to explain but there are shadows in her eyes
Before falling on my sword would be advised
I run through the day with open ire
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