…The attick (XVIIiII) Commin sense…

though I’m never quite sure what’s holding us back, you start me to panic like I’m under attack

FRIENDSHIP IW TRICKU, & THOUGHT i DISGRACE, why must my sight be all over the place

alone in the dark when the twilight starts knocking, yyour words whisper through me like you’re tight in my stocking

And though the Dawson may slip in the creek, the sharpers the claw–
the shineier the beak.

What a to do, what a do do. My words filter through you– and now I’m BRAND new

And technically though I speak the same, I’m finding it harder to tell you my name

Why do do I smile when I openly weep, stuck counting cows instead of followving sheep

My wings though they’re borrowed, they help me to dry, for you dearest llove I’ll loan you one eye
Smile, though you’re happy & heere as I cry.
Why-oh, why-oh, Why?

And still you remind me to try

I don’t know why the charm burns so deep– Only that the pack knows I’m faster asleep. deep, deep … trouble, me deep



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