middle cyclone

baby, why'm i worried now, did someone make a fool of me, 'fore i could show 'em how it's done?, can't give up actin' tough, it's all that i'm made of. can't scrape together quite enough, to ride the bus to the outskirts, of the fact that i need love. there were times that i tried, one for every glass of water, that i spilled next to the bed, wretching pennies in a boiling well, in a dream that it once becomes, a foundry of mute and heavy bells. they shake me deaf and dumb, say, "someone made a fool of me, 'fore i could show 'em how it's done.", it was so clear to me, that it was almost invisible. i lie across the path waiting, just for a chance to be a spiderweb, trapped in your lashes. for that, i would trade you my empire for ashes. but i choke it back, how much i need love.