Hands
I wear my heart on my sleeve,
And every time you touch me,
I can feel it crawling further down my arm,
And eventually it’s going to crawl into your hands.
Specializing in word vomit, poetry and grumblings.
I wear my heart on my sleeve,
And every time you touch me,
I can feel it crawling further down my arm,
And eventually it’s going to crawl into your hands.
