Here`s a girl from a dangerous town She crops her dark hair short so that less of her has to frown when someone gets hurt. She folds her memories like a parachute. Dropped, she collects the peat and cooks her veggies at home: they shoot here where they eat. Ah, there`s more sky in these parts than, say, ground. Hence her voice`s pitch, and her stare stains your retina like a gray bulb when you switch hemispheres, and her knee-length quilt skirt`s cut to catch the squall, I dream of her either loved or killed because the town`s too small.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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