I stare into the eyes of the half clad hula girls
her expectations staggering, mind faltering.
She can see,
Through substance, through me
and half expectantly
I wonder.
Who is she, no really.
She keeps things cold, distant, detached.
And yet I find myself going back, back like a thousand exodus'
Like the stripes on the back of a Zebra.
And I wonder
What will ever become of me?
her expectations staggering, mind faltering.
She can see,
Through substance, through me
and half expectantly
I wonder.
Who is she, no really.
She keeps things cold, distant, detached.
And yet I find myself going back, back like a thousand exodus'
Like the stripes on the back of a Zebra.
And I wonder
What will ever become of me?
