I walked into the room while thinking of our little story I should have written it down If only on my stain covered sleeve I should have turned it into a song And whistled it to the wind You seemed to have it transcribed onto a look An expression close to criminal intent A cross between lust and hate and docile integrity It's a joke I suppose, left out to sprout in the sun There was a way I could have left Yet no way out but through that door Its like trying to understand why a smell reminds you of love Why a certain pair of eyes reminded you of night Is it cruel to give someone else Your love? It was built for You, it has Your dedication written on the title page But You shall not receive The lost mention of the peppermint grind Your eyes were so dark all I could see were the reflections of the street lamps It will be your story I carry Though I know someone else will get to hear the ending I was just the start Though I did give you courage To walk through th...
Comments
Post a Comment