Plaid skirts that hide love walk in single file.
Ties that restrict blood to the brain.
Passing notes in math class,
(freedom ware your scars of desire),
itò€™s a coming of age story, (freedom ware your scars of desire),
conflicting impulses, (freedom wear your scars of desire)
cuts seem they must bleach ur skin.
Iò€™ve read this book before.
Anxious eyes stare out of warped glass waiting for the 3 oò€™clock bell.

Iò€™m trying hard to forget that cold october day,
when love challenged freedom to a fist fight,
freedom looked victorious but no one was expecting the outcome
on that baseball diamond
when love reached beneath her plaid jumper,
pulled out a switch blade and drove itò€²
directly through the heart of st angeles.
go...1Any notion of self government was left alone bleeding on the pitchers mound.