Washing Machine - Branch Michelle



Your eyes, they look so bright

a funky flair in my appetite

but there's no room for you



My feet are on the ground

and my head is in the clouds

but you still can't break through

whatcha gonna do?



I'm not gonna stand around

Waiting for my lips to be read

falling through the cracks in the ground

my feelings need to be said



Flowing like water in a crimson melody

the orange plastic sun is shining

true so hard to see

the rain of your existence is falling down on me

and the soap suds spread like a disease

from my washing machine



I'm not just gonna stand around

waiting for you

falling through the cracks in the ground

and I'm hoping that you'll make your next move



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