target
it's cold outside and my hands are dry skin is cracked and I realise that I hate the sound of guitars a thousand grudging young millionaires forcing silence sucking sound forced into this conversation so I say shine let their planets collide this is the darkening down of my mind we could be making it oiling like crime we could be making it staking last dimes if you want to seize the sound you don't need a reservation the torch is passed it's yours to return lay at their feet now use it to burn for marketing the use of the word generation a false alliance of money persuading forcing silence sucking sound forced into this conversation now if you want to seize the sound you don't need a reservation so open and young so target I can smell your heart you're a target