PureVolume

Posted September 2 | Leave a Comment

Yo The water ain't safe, the land's made of water I hug a half empty glass my dignity's trying to pawn her I'm trying to see the future in a tea cup and a saucer But I rather be drinking coffee with my cigarette foster And a run away buckle the cloud-nine fantasy filter to force the brutal truth Of daily market place wars through the roof I mean I stood beneath the icicles that bleed under the awning And magically mastered the great absorbing of spirit falling But I'm sick, I've plow… read more