Mylets Hungover Tehran
And all the time I wasted was all the time I had. I'm caught in a bear trap. I'm two legs too short to get back up and flee. Desert mouth and trembling hands should satisfy my rough demands. Stuck on top of this bleeding metropolis thinking ‘how are we ever going to get home?' You had my heart; you had my home. You had my heart; you had my soul. Being good just feels right, yet I'll still lay awake at night clawing and tearing at this house is not a home. Will she make it through the week? You had my heart; you had my home. You had my heart; you had my soul
