Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore. And I'm young and I'm strong. But I feel old and tired, over fired. . And I've been poked and stoked. It's all smoke, there's no more fire, only desire.
Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore. And I'm young and I'm strong. But I feel old and tired. Over fired. . And I've been poked and stoked. It's all smoke, there's no more fire.
Got your hand up all in my shirt. And you know that it hurts. Ball and chain, my ball and chain. . Crossing the street you look so fine. Making up everything that's in my mind.
Turn the key and warm up the vehicle. Window's foggy and I'm in my little bubble. Some are red, some are yellow. Black and blue and different colors, mine is green.