Ursa

It just goes to show, when I hear your blues, in some lane dead slow, being witness to your sighs, ugly internal feuds, the weary lies, drink Chardonay think of loans, energy to sooth, my boiling bones, instead of all the jibes, amid these stinking fumes, you won’t make me cry, realise it's all you know, how to haunt a venue, keeping up a teary note, don't try to be wise, you have nothing new, I've marked these nights, better face the blow, something we always knew, deep within my soul, little space for you.