With Evening Altitude (II)
Sickness, strength are telling me
"So sorry, we have sunk here"
Is there a chance of filling me?
My thought of water peels the skin off
Of the possibility, from charity, polarity
Mistakenly my mind becomes a wall
With no paint, feel my dirt
The stain of clean cloth on my evening dress
Some altitude is on with washed-out days (nothing's near that here)
Failed to the story - take my past
Failed to the story with unnamed harass
Failed to the story - gate the feel
Failed to the story - there's such a fee of deal
Fake this story - fake your feels
Fake this story - fake your peel
Fake this story - fake your feels
Fake this story - fake your peels
Taking my pill
Taking my pill
Taking my pill
Take that pill
Writer/s: Lavatory Service