Ramblin', where to begin?. I taste the summer on your peppery skin. Been saved, the warmer the waves. I felt us slip into a watery grave. . My girl, linen and curls.
You call,. I was drowning, weary after the party. And the line,. Couldn't hold you enough. We talked. But I could hear you quiet between thoughts. And the time.
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Guido, I wish that you and Lapo and I. Could be taken by magic and placed in a boat. Where every rising swell. Would sweep us at our will across the sky.
When we arrive, sons and daughters. We'll make our homes on the water. We'll build our walls of aluminum. We'll fill our mouths with cinnamon now. . These currents pull us across the border.
Myla Goldberg sets a steady hand upon her brow. Myla Goldberg hangs a crooked foot all upside down. It comes around, it comes around, it comes around, it comes around.
As you lie before me now like a shadow. On a pea green sea. Never thought that I could find you so hollow. Laying into me. . But this cup of wine. All salt and brines make me sleepy.
Ambling madly all over the town. The call to arms you likened to a whisper. I likened to a radio. . You were a brick bat, a Bowery tough, so rough. They called you from a cartoon.
Sixteen military wives. Thirty-two softly-focused, brightly-colored eyes. Staring at the natural tan. Of thirty-two gently clenching wrinkled little hands.
We set to sail on a packet full of spice, rum and tea-leaves.. We've emptied out all the bars and the bowery hotels.. Tell your daughters do not walk the streets alone tonight.
The Shankill Butchers ride tonight. You better shut your windows tight. They're sharpening their cleavers and their knives. And taking all their whiskey by the pint.