Strummed with a joyful melody.

One day you'll find your little soul.
Watching wild flowers grow.
Bite your fingers but not your tongue.
Always thinkin you're the only one who gets it.
At some point one of us will cave again.
More than likely me again.
Maybe one day you'll find your little soul.
Watching wild flowers.
Messy hair blowin careless in the wind.
Ghingham cotton print, leanin up against another dirty wall.
What you missin sad-girl?
Lookin for that little soul and watchin wild flowers grow.
Now I see you, and you're the one I want to see past all the shit I've done.
Before you knew it you'd know me.
Watchin wild flowers blown about, torn off their pretty stems, and oh you feel so bad. And you think that depth is there. Maybe  this time the mud spatters are just glitter.
Found that little soul?
Watchin wild flowers grow.

Share this:

Post a Comment