Scarred without the bobby pens
And without a pool, listening to the
Sirens in the afternoon;
And looking at my dog;
And now my after all of this,
And all done underneath all of the trespassing
And the midgets in their canals;
They are teaching me in high school
And underneath the
Flood planes or airplanes-
So- think of me
Anyways.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice and simple, I like