city of cold

i'll lift shrouds,
easy as you
and we'l lay torn into the morning
late for anywhere we should've been
and good as gone for
we'll talk nightmares and
take them over making butterfly
wings or snowflakes or them
anything harmless)
and roll over, a kiss ont he ear
and more dreams.

2003-11-19 | 5:51 p.m.
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