Trillium Killer - Foxes In Fiction

Young world, misunderstood

Shooting sprees, shade from trees

Pain will dull, will take control

Hand turns fist, slight of violence

When the soil softens, softly decay

Come see my spot on your day off

When the salt’s laid there, nothing will grow

Not like him, trillium

Not my problem, not my fault

The sun burns out, let the sun burn out

Not my body, not my mind

Falling asleep, missing my stop