Still I must confess, its like youve never left, listen close, hear our ghosts, getting high and carrying on. Somethings always missing, the clean forks in my kitchen, the rooms we used to kiss in, and leave from. Delusions of grandeur, wearing out, running thin, northern exposure rests on the ottoman. We play our games, we slur our names, we are the same. The only thing Im sure of, this weights worth carrying, this ones worth burying, Ive been casting curses to keep the damage done. https://youtube/watch?v=tO_vjJhKNvI
Posted on: Wed, 03 Dec 2014 02:22:09 +0000
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