100% of interpretations are your own.
Time to bury rage. Roast it with fire first off. Let the ground rest please.
G. Pearson
Had to really fight Fingers in my side—hot pain Was dead by Wednesday
Let lemons harden. Sour will remain in tact. Turned to ornaments.
I’m bent and spent now For a while I hoped to crack No snap, just more pain
‘What is with this vibe?’ I thought I would take a ride. Bury pain inside.
Some like the branding The flesh raw for weeks then on Both the pigs and men
My feet went stark numb Finally my lids could close Fast asleep with pain.
I hurt when you hurt. I expect the same from you. That bond is crucial.