"lungs, dirt, and dreams"
the west wind don't blow,
in this valley no more,
your crop has gone dry,
the gray horse, he does ride,
famine and sweat,
that's all that you get,
and there's sin on your tongue,
and no lust for this sun,
a poem and a sound,
the only common ground,
it's where we reside,
but that's all in your mind,
so let's make this clear,
cause i have it all here,
in one, two, and three,
my lungs, dirt, and dreams,
yes, i have all these things.
hopefully demoing it this week!
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