Eight Line Poem

The tactful cactus by your window
Surveys the prairie of your room
The mobile spins to its collision
Clara puts her head between her paws
They've opened shops down West side
Will all the cacti find a home
But the key to the city
Is in the sun that pins the branches to the sky

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[Verse 1] This here is on some truthful shit! Its seems like everything I do your use to it! And I hate hearing stories bout who you've been with! Thats when I gotta hide

President Joe once had a dream The world held his hand, gave their pledge So he told them his scheme for a Saviour Machine They called it the Prayer, its answer was law Its

Close your eyes Look inside You'll discover you have an eye Eyes can see What you hide It's like a picture from the smallest child Lay your head Down at night And you'll just think about the wrongs

Чому такий маленький янгол, як ти Закохався в сон й не хоче прокидатись, Вечірнє небо подарувало ласку: Вона, всього лиш мрія – ти сам створив цю казку Ти сам створив цю казку, ти вигадав