Flip-Flop Bleed-Not
Flip-flop and pitter-patter, Goes the song of my feet, Dirty shoes, they're warriors, Many streets sing sweet- With my foot beat. Streets; Our habitat, Our nature to nurture, Concrete and plaster the future. Oh, the trees they have eyes, But the street has a heart, Retains day's warmth, Glimmering... Sign in to see full entry.