paper cries at the carve it has to carry
nobody, no thing, asks for branding
but where else will i paint the picture of who i am
in hope, in gathered pages, you find me between your hands
W.E.
paper cries at the carve it has to carry
nobody, no thing, asks for branding
but where else will i paint the picture of who i am
in hope, in gathered pages, you find me between your hands
W.E.