hornblower nights

and so they're the songsingers, they're the stories told, and suddenly someone's telling me my name doesn't suit me and i know it doesn't but i can't be bothered with trivialities these days. i hear the wind blowing hot hornblower non-sea air out there and i remember the way that litle crushed toad looked on the parking lot pavement this morning.

i'll see you in the morning and maybe by then, we'll have everything all sorted out.

2003-08-07 | 5:44 p.m.
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