The Weather Outside
(or if you will, a few thoughts)
In the razorblade cuts of mind
Brown eyes breathed angelic opera to my skin
The book smells antique dust
And, I know that I will awaken
again tomorrow, alone.
The Weather Outside
(or if you will, a few thoughts)
In the razorblade cuts of mind
Brown eyes breathed angelic opera to my skin
The book smells antique dust
And, I know that I will awaken
again tomorrow, alone.