I heard seven birds in the morning.

And in their music I heard a warning.

It hurt so bad that I wanted to die, but I tried to live so I held on.



I heard four birds at lunch time.

While I minded my own business

they slithered in my head.

But still I kept them alive for business.


It's risky lips that licked and held on the edges of my love,
Evenstill it's not any blessing from above.
It's luck and it's ******* ridiculous.
Passionbuilt plays made of love and dreams.

It's an easy way out but it seems that Im shot.
I'm not what I should be.
I'll die here.
That's okay.

Unfairness is all I can see.