Texty písní Pond The Practice of Joy Before Death Artificial Turf

Artificial Turf

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sitting in a field with fingers in the earth
artificial turf should cover everything
you and me cover the real world so green and evenly

artificial hurts and manufactured words
artificial words and manufactured hurts
holding down your face until you let go first

you and me uncover the real world alone eventually

the filthy sun shines down upon the dull earth spring
not anything will grow back in were grass grew once
roll back the carpeting

you and me uncover the real world imperfect and ugly
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