Letra This Accident de Percy Shaw original

It's not physical my minds mayhem. It's so subtle.
Lines and colors. Textures. Nothing beats this fear.
Poetry becomes one line on lies and smiles.

I don't want to be in that place. A finished work of art. Smooth, Polished in a cold stand. I'd rather be a paper cut.

I've written away from lines to be free in a black screen.
Sheared. Alive. I Breathe. Bleed. Bled. Woke.
Nothing to say. Your cheeks turned white. New hope.
You're dressed in white on an operating table.
I drove you to the hospital