There’s a plant on my desk, and it’s soil’s dry
And it’s brown leaves are curling up at the sides
So I guess bernya’s missin Kelly
Or she’s telling me she’s ready to be
Leavin us until next summer
When the sunlight glares like a sentinel
Or windmill built up above a stall
With a wooden door below it
Where the people live that own it
Like a hiding place or bricklaid shall
And on rainy nights they don’t get no sleep
Because the black clouds are crashin down underneath
And the little kids are playin in the
Wet fields while its raining
In their buckled shoes and black knee highs.
Bridge 2 times through with buildup
And the drops connect, stitched side by side
So that my brains takin orders from kelly’s spine
She sayin moderations waitin
Like a Sunday conversation
Longing to be recognized
And the branches are all reaching out
To protect the kids playin down on the ground
From the light that up above em
No they’ll never see it comin
When they’re pretty pale skin gets threatened red
And they’ll be shaking on the bathroom floor,
With their suicide notes posted on the door
And they’ll never blame their parents
No matter what had happened
Because there’s poetry in mystery
And I’m prayin in my dorm room with my sneakers tied tight
Talking to the mirrors and my bloodshot eyes
Are the signal of my changes and
Assaulted vocal ranges that
Result from taking poison at the table
