From Charles Bukowski’s “When the violets roar at the sun”
they’ve got us in the cage
ruined of grace and senses
and the heart roars like a lion
at what they’ve done to us
The breeze creeps through
cracked windows,
screens fuzzy
From Charles Bukowski’s “When the violets roar at the sun”
they’ve got us in the cage
ruined of grace and senses
and the heart roars like a lion
at what they’ve done to us
The breeze creeps through
cracked windows,
screens fuzzy
