I guess it’s Sunday morning,
Or maybe friday nevermind.
I stand up in a bed, not mine.
I’m out of my mind.
white horses running,
Psyche slavery.
Outside a bird is eating something,
Give me your wings it will make me fly.
I guess it’s friday morning,
Or maybe Sunday, nevermind.
I stand up in a place, not mine.
I truly out of my mind
The white horses running,
I felt so down, so wrong.
Now i feel so lonely
it will make me die.
I guess it’s Sunday morning,
Or maybe friday nevermind.
I stand up in a bed, not mine.
I’m out of my mind.
The white horses running,
I felt so down, so wrong.
Now i feel so lonely