by the time i am ready to die
i will be miserable and old
wandering streets in discontent
talking to lights that change colors
reading prose in the sidewalks
i promise i won't save
a single one of you from this
by the time i am ready to die
i will light cigarettes
meander the smoke to lungs
talk about how i used to make sense
through matches kept in a drawer
i will be miserable and old
wandering streets in discontent
talking to lights that change colors
reading prose in the sidewalks
i promise i won't save
a single one of you from this
by the time i am ready to die
i will light cigarettes
meander the smoke to lungs
talk about how i used to make sense
through matches kept in a drawer
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
lovette:
me and my home girl were oogling your goodies in the SB group.....just thought i'd let ya know you're a beautiful man! xoxo
kid_hideous:
nice poem, man. and i see you're an SB too. well, that's two things we have in common.