the stereo plays
the stereo always plays
it carries a tune
like i carry your name
counting the blessings
but coming up short
these washed out sheets
in a bedroom or court
will it make you regret
can it help me forget
does it taste like poetry
or a half lit cigarette
blood is boiling
when lovers stop and stare
the only difference
is the lack of perfume in the air
No comments:
Post a Comment