I'm planting strawberry feels in the cracks of the sidewalk.
The horizon whistles its hard truth with wire lips.
I can spot the lie in that fine-cut crystal.
Over here man rules with his scattered cry,
his bitter perfume.
I'm planting strawberry feels in the cracks of the sidewalk.
The horizon whistles its hard truth with wire lips.
I can spot the lie in that fine-cut crystal.
Over here man rules with his scattered cry,
his bitter perfume.