Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Starts of dreams, I'm able to breathe underwater
Someone's daughter's sugar, southern-weather voice
With Lucky Strikes, she tries to cover the smell
Cover the noises of his mouth
Blur out the planes of his face
Cover the noises he makes
There's a man and I hate him plainly
Nothing fancy in how glad I watched them bury him
But ever since then, I can feel him all around me
Clawing like a crowd
Like the weather sucks me in and spits me out
Understand I am only as he made me
A faithful servant to all of the noise
All of the lights
All the flashing in my head
The sound of his mouth, loud as a crowd
And you're lucky that you're dead
Because clemency is tugging me
But I'm sorry that she's weak
Because I won't be merciful
Like what got you first in your throat
I will be real, real slow
Just like a wheel, turn over
I'm like a wheel
I'm like a wheel
I'll be real, I'll be real
I'll turn over like a wheel
The Wheel was produced by Kevin McMahon.