No heart-felt primrose, letters found, in empty envelopes
Why am I surprised to find?
No whispers on a, troubled wind, for every misplaced laugh
Why are you maligned all the time?
My fingers cut back, to the quick, by empty envelopes
Why is there a thorn in my side?
My storming teacup, quickened now, for circling the square
Why is there a devil still to dime?
Can I leave
Leave me be
I’ll be fine
Fine fine line
You scratch the thin ice, with a nail, then empty envelopes
Why do I not rush to the side?
Now all that glitters, is not gold, when dark before the dawn
Why is darkness still so sublime?
Can I leave
Leave me be
I’ll be fine
Fine fine line
Can I leave
Leave me be
I’ll be fine
Fine fine line