| Slow February |
[Sep. 20th, 2005|02:15 pm] |
Stop haunting, my song, numbers and figures, questions in the circle. Tail the painful heart, I will never tell, I will never unseal. Run run, my weary soul, in the beautiful petals, red red winter smile, February slow.
Come out to meet you; I am just a broken bottle. Put the puzzles apart, tell me you love me. My circle clear with running eyes, life not easy. Heaven till the end.
That was just a sound darkening the air, me lovely in the crowd, losing it losing it. Saddness welled up, unable to touch the scar. Yes yes yes, take me back to the start! |
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