Scent Of Lime - The Long Winters

You are light-tasting

Fine, with a scent of lime

My part in your art is to be there

You’re right

I’m wasting such a meager grace

So soon

What you’re doing is aiming

The plainest words are the finest

I gladly waive my rights to find the real world

If you find the real world let me know

It never rains enough to cool my fever

All it does is rain

The worst you can do is harm

Waiting for the other shoe to fall

And shouting from your car at an empty road

The plainest words are the finest

I’ve been waiting half my life to find the real world