Boring Dreams
The Weather
whispe like a willow, blow softly make 'em sing, catch me in your breeze and then we'll float into the trees
i dig you like the sun digs yellow, and the heat, you make me heat, set fire to the ones i meet burning down the streets
im like a fucked up fellow, cant get pleasure from a thing so i gotta sing about every boring dream
that passes through my melon, and i aint gotta sell it to myself, i know it should be dealt with that i dont mind being helpless
but in the world i say hello, and i shake hands and make demands like a big man when i can and i sell it
like a professional, but at times i feel fake inside, but hey quick gotta hide it, gotta protect your pride
especially to the public, dont let them know what they already know, we're to afraid to know what no one really knows
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