like your eyes face trenches
there's gotta be a place for us to go
the skeletons of trees are signs
who's mind will mend mine
I guess I was just an antique
cause you sold me for dirt cheap
and I suppose they all know
that dime-a-dozen price of mine
so who would respect me
beyond being just a novelty
I light my smoke
inhale and exhale
and sure as shit i still feel paper frail.
