1
A Green Thing,
Sur-round-ed
By Brown Skin,
Be-tween Dark Lips.
Loose-ly Like,
2 Hands that
Re-mind Me Of
Our Last Kiss.
Ironic the
Candle Blow-ing,
Know-ing I will
Not Get my Wis-h.
2
As I Lo-ok In-to The
Cause of The
Smoke In a
Yell-ow Gaze,
Like it is m-y
In-haling De-sire
For Such An
In-tense Orange blaz-e.
It Turns In-to a
Purple Psychic Circle,
Starin-g Back at
2 Crystal Ball-s!
3
Where i-s It?
Sur-round-ed
By Brown Skin,
Be-tween Dark Lips.
Did I Mi-ss It?
The Part where
She Returns and
Give Me a Kiss.
Ironic The
Candle Blow-ing,
Know-ing I will
Not Get my Wis-h.
