you got yrself in there

you worked yrself in there

then say that you cant breath

and who did what with all the air

you blame the tall cans

you blame the suntans

but that look on yr face

when you put it in my hands

we had a few nights

sore like a fist fight

pat the devil on the head

and ask him if he’s alright

you always act like summer

i want the cold winter

i want some ice to break

 and fall through and stay under

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About brian black

laugh at the horror, fill the past with the future, my head lines and heart lines reach out for each other.
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