The words go 360° and land back at my feet, ever constrained in a magically perfect world where things are clockwork. But truth isn’t a warm blanket; and your heart is never warmer than a Siberian summer.
Walk up behind her and lay down the bait. You have to believe one simple rule: You have the power to make anything happen. A tap on the shoulder makes her attempt to turn around, but your lips are near her ears. She stops dead in her tracks and your verbal chemistry goes in full effect.
i go hungry / this money, it’s not interplanetary / survival becomes a joke without hope / just look at the bloke down the street / trying to cope / without the greens to pay for his dope
It’s midnight dear, past the snowflakes, your heart is clear and love is near. No, please, I didn’t mean what I said. I do love you, but the time is not right. You and I: the equation doesn’t flow. How should it go? Well, fuck. How would I know.
Thirteen notches into the gutter, and you life is in flutter; eight nimble legs that swing about and bring down your ego, and her eyes whisper to you her jealousy—yet you can’t let go.