we're mostly all of us sad bastards

there's something funny int he way way speak, move, line-up behind on top of each other (everytime i put my dick in her it's so pure, he says) and she knows beyond thoughts as doubts it isn't true and so it goes: life without love, but tender fingers in all the right places and that'll be enough, that'll be enough (until something better comes along) for her and she's swept away sweet looks at him (that's what she wants) and courting how she maddens him with the chase and so the game battle of the gender-roles drags on we have another ciggarette just, one more mai tai sir, and then we'll cut it all out.

2003-11-23 | 7:16 p.m.
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