falling forests, we
run until august, we
stop at a fallen tree
hold on tight to me
we'll get out of here free
but down to our knees
we beg them to flee
all they did was siege
they come in threes
better hide with me
come hide with me
where we'll be free
come hide with me
where no one'll see
come hide with me
come, drink some tea
come hide with me
before we flee
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the far side | poetry
Poetrydon't know what is wrong with me i feel gone i'm so reckless - a collection of poetry from the perspective of a madman
