Once you've left a lonely rage on its own, it grows. And dynamite stuffed in a mailbox doesn't smoke until it blows. . And, oh, all the tears in four tiny years.
Cinco de mayo, blowout, denial. It wasn't fun this time, letting you go. What if I never, a bullet forever. Held out my hand to you?. We wouldn't have known beautiful flow.
I met him at a party. And he told me how to drive him home. He said he liked to do it backwards. I said, "That's just fine with me. That way we can fuck and watch TV".