«Throughout. Forgive...Xia..."read my lips,
Between the false movements of phonemes,
Restrict access to your Instagram
I look, it is unclear why.
Plan a hundred sweet meetings,
Saturdays from five to seven,
Find not knowing how to protect
I don't need to, I know everything, damn it.
Get out of there as soon as possible,
Where the snow doesn't melt, treacherously,
Here we have water to the drops
Between the curves of the open eyelids.