It's somewhere I wish I wouldn't remember tomorrow
If the better half is the journey itself.
I would've never thought to beg or borrow
It's a Smiths album lonely on the shelf.
It's the thunderstorm I told myself to forget
A flowerless field I wouldn't walk.
Like rolling a hill in a white shirt you'll regret
Or a hand stuck in the heart of a clock.
No comments:
Post a Comment