I've a postbox now
It's for you and I need you to write
Listen picture
I've been run down by a slow moving distance
You've not said one kind word to me and I can't keep from dripping
I thought, "Beautiful, I will pick myself up and be on my way"
But it's, "Why? There's always another slow moving distance
And I can't keep from dripping."
Pictures don't change
But sometimes hide their aim
You don't care
I'm upset now
It's me sentence
When I stand it shares back.
It's a worn tire to swing on in the yard.
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