Black Dirt

I feel the presence of an
Aneurysm of regret
I hear it in me
It has a pulse, like

It looms a history
Of itself
Makes an encampment
And starves me out

It looms a history
Of itself
Makes an encampment
And starves me out

It's a spade, it's a spade, it's a spade
In a dense black dirt
It's a spade, it's a spade, it's a spade
In a dense black earth
It's a spade, it's a spade, it's a spade
In a dense black dirt

I feel the presence of an
Aneurysm of regret
It holds court
It crooks its finger and
Beckons me in

It looms a history
Of itself
And it bandies me about
It looms a history
Of itself
And bandies me about

It's a spade, it's a spade, it's a spade
In a dense black dirt
It's a spade, it's a spade, it's a spade
In a dense black earth
It's a spade, it's a spade, it's a spade
In a dense black dirt



Credits
Writer(s): Colleen Collins
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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