Can we feel our thoughts,
and can we think our feelings,
or is it the rain.
Sat on writers rock,
that’s awash with wavy words,
and those seagull songs.
Her letter ended,
and with nothing more to say,
she drew a black heart.
As complex as simple is.
Can we feel our thoughts,
and can we think our feelings,
or is it the rain.
Sat on writers rock,
that’s awash with wavy words,
and those seagull songs.
Her letter ended,
and with nothing more to say,
she drew a black heart.