Comadre Hamlets
This is it. The nights that stand on two the morning
breakfast blues, we must not hold back what keeps us in
tact. Our secret tired lonely eyes, still we keep out
necks high. And while your cons and everlongs all sound
the best. A plague builds from the space between your
shirt and your chest. So save us the phrase "a sight for
bored lives" we're just a city of hamlets, minus
surprise. So from the end to the start, wolf tickets
aside, welcome home a premature suicide.
