Percy Shaw - This Accident - Sözleri

It's not physical my minds mayhem.  It's so subtle.

Lines and colors.  Textures.  Nothing beats this fear.

Poetry becomes one line on lies and smiles.



I don't want to be in that place.  A finished work of art.  Smooth, Polished in a cold stand.  I'd rather be a paper cut.



I've written away from lines to be free in a black screen.

Sheared.  Alive.  I Breathe.  Bleed.  Bled.  Woke.

Nothing to say.  Your cheeks turning white.  New hope.

You're dressed in white on an operating table.

I drove you to the hospital.


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