Dont shit on my Sunshine.

What? Am I supposed to be the one to sink into simulation without the sound of seperation?
I wish i was the one that recieved the correct coronation by the precious peaceful pixel.

Why must we grow older? Sinking six feet in a sunken ship is simply seductive to a suite.
Bubbles of desperate breath abandon my precious lips. My sweet soul cannot swim. Sorry.

Hoping for gasps of air is harder when strapped to the bottom of a meadow.
Stars and light is all i can see. Never has my presence been this peaceful.
I lie there beneath the curious, asking the Owls why they are trying to say.
They are always questioning my name. Sometimes i question my cause.

Depth is so out of character. Apreciated by few. Dont expect me to smell your shit.