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lyrics
Let them be stunned by ostrich’s flight,
let them expose and see this promising creature for what it is,
tho it’s flight was a torture.
There’s art in it’s ways, can see it pulse and god,
it’s four am and your room is pulsin’,
witnessing serpent tales, drowned in a pose of purple and on top of this,
the love’s real kids, call you a villain,
a cunt, they will call you worse, for your tongue is a curse.
Your love is all good.
But your verse is a torture.
Art star, it’s our time and
I’m possessed which I can’t will,
yet you run for me.
Tho there are fields to run for.