Here is the letter to me
Not Cheetah but only Jenny
Not many people know you
But that keeps you steady.
People call me posh
but rolling stones gather no moss
the goss, their loss
You lie up there
waiting for this song to write
You keep on sitting for singing
Am I wrong or right?
Right now all exits seem the same
Try not to cycle or start to blame
this used to be fun
to rhyme and hum
there wasnt the stress of being the one, hun
why not come?
beat your own drum
when is coming up now, your own sun
Hale from Lon-don
but the inspo doesnt come
not gonna lie i feel so dry
why cant you just write it
why o why
my oh my