This growing old is getting old. I often find myself here thinking. About the birds, the boats, and past loves. that flew away or started sinking. And it's crazy here without you.
For once. There is nothing up my sleeve. Just some scars from a life. That used to trouble me. . I used to run. At first sight of the sun. Now, I lay.
Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck. Some nights I call it a draw. Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle. Some nights I wish they'd just fall off.