worthless

brush the tender day away reeds at your fingers soft on the edges of a word the edges of a word all the cherubs fall to sleep we bore them even now. and they knw what i could never want to hear. so i can lay in the cool rain at dusk and think of you as the sun sets

no one knows the worlds i offer you

2003-02-21 | 1:52 p.m.
0 comments so far

previousnext

background