On a train station that fell off the map
Grass, dry air, thorns, and cactus On iron wire. There is the shape of the thing In the absurdity of the formless, it chews its shadow… There is a documented…
Grass, dry air, thorns, and cactus On iron wire. There is the shape of the thing In the absurdity of the formless, it chews its shadow… There is a documented…