Sully our hands with circumstance Cogs and machines in static trance Nurse the wounds lick and heal Spend your life lacking zeal Only Black white and newspaper grey the stagnate colours that lead the way For painted wives with little bobby pins A home cooked meal in exchange for financial wins Wondering lost in lipstick warpaint Riches of rust and other mistakes And just one more thing I beg to ask you If the dreams i write aren't really new Tell me then why they never came true?
Wednesday, 28 March 2012
The Stalest Suburban Existence
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