I’m not just some woman, you can’t take hold of,
You have to know, the stakes, non’ share burritoe, bare toe, mare
I’m not the summon, one the solemn column ready to read,
I’m always for ‘to proceed’
I just like to get on,
Hate that I hurt close ‘someone‘,
Close to a shave I cut the corpse, and pasty face,
Break in blue veins,
I’m not the girl who skips down the lanes,
I leave without a trace, participate in no kind; a race, cus the shape I take is dealt with by wax so it changes sometimes, it steps out its lines
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