down by the lake is a patch of grass.
there where my friend and I gather and smoke hash.
down by the lake is a giant oak tree.
it's shadow shields us from the sun, so we can see.
drinking our rum in the fragile grass.
waiting for the dusk, surrounded by our trash.
down by the lake there's a broken piece of land.
where the decay of vegetation has run out of hand.
as we sit there on this hard and unforgiving ground,
we mourn our past ways, not making a single sound.
as we regret how we treated our home base.
we collect our trash and leave no trace.
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten