Shame.

Putting off the pain, drowning in the rain. The white light womb is coming clean again so crawl in and begin. He fixes his hair and straightens out his back. “How is it that he owns me?” you ask. And that‘s you:

I would have wrung you dry of all your shame.

Don‘t waste your paint, you‘ve got plenty of pain. You‘ll drawn like you‘re an SUV in the city. In the city.

I‘ve got your shame.

• Shame. by Oh, Messy Life [acoustic] 1 point. last published 1 month ago share

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• Palpitations 1 point 1 month ago

  Whoa, I have a photograph I call Oh, Messy Life. Weird.

  see context

  • classygasoline 1 point 1 month ago

    From the CaP‘N JaZZ song? That‘s where I got this name idea.. Unoriginal? Maybe slightly…

    see context