(no subject)

./~ You may know what I am
But who I am you don’t know
She’ll run across the mustard dust sand
Scream down the wind
And the sea is in and cold
...
When she blows the candle out
She goes to bed and lies and drags through her head
The day that went way of every day
But tomorrow she’ll fly a plane
Over the fields where the houses aren’t built yet
...
How sweetness turns sour
And leaves they turn to brown
And then to earth and dust
And settle in this town ~\.