A cage I build, defying any storm
Of passion that might wish to break the line,
And force a rhythmic, stilted, weak design.
The very choice to use a formal rhyme,
A self-imposed and wasted use of time.
A cage I build, defying any storm
Of passion that might wish to break the line,
And force a rhythmic, stilted, weak design.
The very choice to use a formal rhyme,
A self-imposed and wasted use of time.
He doesn’t give a damn
I wish I was a moron
My god
perhaps I am.
He doesn’t give a damn
I wish I was a moron
My god
perhaps I am.