Such a day you roll your hands
You can always make me crawl
I'm no longer to go there
Where you take me to your home

Our home
Our Christmas selves our bones
Where all thoughtfulness and carelessness thrown
To the Autumn of our categories

And the rose colored remains
And the walls are painted blue
For recapturing and gain
And the stains are twice removed

Don't go
We'll reactivate your phone
For reopening of house and covers blown
And the Winter of our delcarations