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Will Taylor

Pope

Ice you feel very nice
Pressed up agents my skin
As the plastic bends
My bones break again

Well my insides are twisted up
I must have been made from the wrong stuff
Well my body isn’t like yours
So you would probably just get bored

Glass lodged in my spine
Rips a hole in my side
As the tires slide
I close my eyes

I want to be a thought in your head
Not a memory or a distant friend
Well my body isn’t like yours
So you’d probably just get board