deepundergroundpoetry.com
cant <---
i cant believe you packed up all your things
at least return my grandmother's ring
i laid awake until'bout five this mornin
falling asleep to the sound of birds singin
can't stop reflecting on what we did
i'm sorry i wished you were dead
it seems so suddenly we reached our end
but it was destined like ink running out of a pen
at least return my grandmother's ring
i laid awake until'bout five this mornin
falling asleep to the sound of birds singin
can't stop reflecting on what we did
i'm sorry i wished you were dead
it seems so suddenly we reached our end
but it was destined like ink running out of a pen
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