Are you locked out of ur heart?
Cause I’m the word smith around this part-ta d-art.
Let me open it right up,
There’s no need for sorrow.
A broken heart is as useless as all the pride that I swallow.
But it’s okay,
I’m bumping willow, sitting under a willow.
The blood stain on my pillow is as starbon as this trip from that pill we took, constant flipbacks and backflips, those I do miss dearly
Silly little girl