I am the palm tree, a reconstruction. I am a sentimental coconut obstruction. white-sand-apologies, bottled remorse. A beached reality on a non-existant shore.
but you know, (you know) we'll go for it.
Into the cabin. We know it's our home.
We're asking, but we know, do islands become volcanos?
We're asking, but we know, do islands become volcanos?