Xandria

It just goes to show, when I hear your blues, in some lane dead slow, a witness to those signs all blah and ugly feuds, packs of weary lies, the missed loans, anything said to unhook, my frozen clothes, instead of jibes, and all your doodle doo, it's better that I cry, more than what you know, still hold a certitude, keep a cheery tone, why try to be wise, to me it's nothing new, marked those weary nights, better face the blow, some things I always knew, release troubled souls, in particular you.