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She's Bound to Hate Youno news is good news but i miss your smile i’ve been finding you over my shoulder in the mirror glass all you do is stareShe's Bound to Hate You
and she's bound to hate you just as soon as you start to fly
and when you leave her in the dust
don't come crying to me
'cause i'll turn my shoulder
and goodbye is over
and you've nothin' left to say
so hold on tight
it's gonna be a long, long fall
you won’t go away and I won’t leave and nothing can stop the tumbling now millions of pieces clumsy graces
and she's b
by ~secondhandroses
the time we spent dyingtoday versus tomorrow between yesterday and last week two years and five months rolled into a minute a century passed me by in thirty-six hoursthe time we spent dying
'cause baby three days is a year and five another decade and we'll have withered away in the time we spend crying and we'll have crashed back to earth in the time we spend flying and when it's over baby we'll look back and all we'll see is the time we spent dying
forwards over backwards inside out or outside in? long-distance turned above-the-tree-line-sprint star-bright, last star
by ~secondhandroses
OvercastThere was a storm brewing, as I collected rain with the cup of my hand, and I looked into your overcast eyes. There I saw several shades of gray, blending in entropy, and the view from the tunnel became a black and white film noir. Cold, grainy granite washed upon asphalt. And if this is a rainy day, I wish it would pour. I wish it would pour, an Exodus of water and analogies.Overcast
There was a cloud, shaped in fiendish manifestations, a barbarian yawp personified into pious rain, an undefiant species. And when I wipe away the mist, nature's sweat, trickling down a
by ~PaperRequiem
PiecesShe reeks of cigarettes, Today’s fast food and last-week’s cleaning detergent But you have a coldPieces
She looks like tomorrow And sings like yesterday But between them there’s a space for you to stand
Friday’s wine and Wednesday’s margaritas City girl in paradise But you’ll change all that
Saturday’s night lights With next year’s subways And your hands in her pockets
This afternoon’s sunshine And midnight’s smoke But she can’t sleep without thinking of you once
Ancient cedar benches And modern plastic desk chairs &nbs
by ~secondhandroses
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