ASPD
2024-04-11
由 yolkhead 使用 Udio AI 创建
Lyrics
a man more dead, and sews with death, and deals his hands in silent beauty Allen, your golden hair like a crown you could die in the crook of an armchair and still your cheeks would laugh their better brush of living red rosary, was only blessed by sleeping Allen, a man is hanged not hung on the rope which is a bitter distinction we would have done better to know and still I wonder some days if you cry in all the husk of dope, in all the waifs on the cornerside, smoke Allen, who should have had a better mother and always was alone and always was alone [and always was alone] [he always was alone] [you always were alone]
