Under blue skies. Under your eyes. Under clouds so dark they make you cry. I see red boats. I see grey cars. I hear sounds so white. they could be stars.
I think I'm getting it right this time. I can tell by the way she grins. She put the postcards up on the head of our bed. I can see Algiers. . She says, "Don't the streets on Sunday look great.
How can I help you focus. When all you do is choke us?. Try looking for me and wishing for me. And kiss me softer than the rest. . How can I help you dream.
I'd never met her type, she ignored me and that's alright. Never to be friends or my body lie on her floor. Her father works, her mother works in exports.
He's got a four wheel drive. That he takes to Double Island Point. He's got a relationship with a woman. That he met in an Irish joint. . I know the land and the colored sand.