Hood You're Worth The Whole World
Face a word bank and fill in the blanks
It's/its blank city versus (verses? verse is?)
the hearts you’ve ever drawn (dropped?)
Reduce your own arm off for a drop the glass absorbs
And you’re pinned by the speeding dash line crash
But the / their hearts are empty, you have no pain
[paint?] and that’s the point.
It's blank city baby where the buildings get stepped on
And all the red carpets they fade
(And) now the barbers don’t courtesy hairwash
But the Devil will crop just your long hair
And the Devil’s cover band are mortal / cover band
immortal
And they're all [they rock?] for you
My dimes are full
I carry a sad dollar / sanddollar
They play (pay? paid?) me six Decembers
If you can cast my face for any paint that’s left.
I feel so
Loved.
