Letras: Tilt. 'Til It Kills. Windowsill.

If I'd fit in the windowsill I'd plant myself in your direction, I would =
use the sun's energy to make this place destination. How dare I hate =
this space I occupy, I'm left to my devices, turning to light I'm =
waiting for the cue, to beckon to the shoot, and break the crust upon =
the soil. Lack of light the iris expands, my eyes abosorb a power coming =
from behind my dim room, in my den amber and damp, as if lit by faith =

alone, I've been more faithful than you know.
Submitted by: Mel