A heart thats full up like a landfill,
A job that slowly kills you,
Bruises that wont heal.
You were so tired and happy,
Bring down the government,
They dont, They dont speak for us.
Ill take the quiet life,
A handshake, some carbon monoxide.
No alarms and no surprises,
Silent.
This is my final fit,
My final bellyache with
please.
Such a pretty house,
