Poppies growing tall in a desert. Dying in the harsh heat. Like a zebra living in the arctic. Ice-cold, forzen, unfriendly. A confused puzzle piece, Turn the world round. Still doesn't fit.
I hear the sentiment in your voice, I see the eyes in your reflection, I feel your presence, all consuming, Your glee at finding your own perfection, You are the center of your floor, Skin deep, but down to the very core,