Scent Of Lime (The Long Winters)

You are light-tasting Fine, with a scent of lime My part in your art is to be there You're right I'm wasting such a meager grace So soon What you're doing is aiming The plainest words are the finest I gladly waive my rights to find the real world If you find the real world let me know It never rains enough to cool my fever All it does is rain The worst you can do is harm Waiting for the other shoe to fall And shouting from your car at an empty road The plainest words are the finest I've been waiting half my life to find the real world