Hayley

Our love of Tort, is a needling desire, an easy rush for justice, the legal spirit, like a cold fish knife, provides our morning biscuit, we would never draw, around soft midnight, the burdens we’re borne, our demons live with it, amongst candlelit signs we’re pushed to our limits, no matter what the call, a tide breaks the line, ours is an uneven chorus, we stumble unforgiven, your situation is dire, expect no remission, we’ve done what we can.