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By Stephen Date: 2003 Jul 19 Comment on this Work [[2003.07.19.03.04.5383]] |
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Twenty and lost in the eight to ten hour gal repetition and respirations less and less this ex her hale is my life With pot holes after new olds the car radio we'd sing along to my songs but they're your songs and silent as the night Ten minutes and two miles a blank stare, a full head this loaded gun shoots a wheel of crazed appeal her driving me to the death The quiet quaint finds a quiet place to be quite irate and I feel all alright like a downbeat stowaway with a touch of passenger fever diagnosed believer just sick with love |