gentil lentil from sour by witchnipple

the studio walls are sloping down
i will clear my head now
of your chemical anger
of your thorny laughter

no matter how many days go by
weeks slip away wordless
im still a match u can burn
shake out when yr candles are lit

how long ago were we in your home
but you were gone before i left for chicago
still i took the train in
grinning like spring in august

i try my best to have some self respect
but truly this is just how i get
il be the match u can use up again
to light yr last cigarette

and we both know that this is the end
you have a hold on me so entirely
please just go while there's something left
i will burn by my own devices

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