pale hart in the copse at dusk
under stars
that bristle on a chinless heaven
faith
I have none
these things are random
I turn up my collar on the night
knowing
she is already gone
E. Best: lyrics | fictions | episodes
pale hart in the copse at dusk
under stars
that bristle on a chinless heaven
faith
I have none
these things are random
I turn up my collar on the night
knowing
she is already gone