Well here I am,
Sitting right down,
Nothing but the white washed plaster.
Darkness breed's right in my soul,
Shutters drawn,
And door is closed.
Then in your corner,
Brightness seeping,
And your god-like aurora.
I don't care if your that,
Red and steemed fruit in their eyes,
And I'm the rotten core.
Birds and bunnies,
Deers,
And all forest creatures,
Surrond you at your feet.
I got bats, wings, scratching at my face,
I gues my time is at end.
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