So much frailness in the way
she’d walk around in summer haze
eyes in tears,rains of alcohol
She’d run down the chimney,like a lost bird
Bringing presents and all kinds of wierd stuff
She would
Showering near the sad houses would sometimes make the
water smell like mud
and the brown eyes cry in the tub
near that girl who cried her veins out
with some Swiss help
And I cannot feel sorry
