You're poised and ready, unable to make a sound. Your hands are sweaty as you look down. You're running already when you've hit the ground You're willing and able, so nice to have around. The head
On the edge of a windowsill. Ponders his maker, ponders his will. To the street below, he just ain't nothin'. But he's got a great view and he sinks the needle deep. Whoa, can't touch the bottom.
What the * is this world. Running to?. . You didn't leave a message. At least I could have. Heard your voice one last time. . Daily minefield. This could be my time. How 'bout you?. Would yo
There used to be nothing in common,. There used to be nothing to share;. It used to be sit by the window,. And stare at what used to be there. . It used to be lonely in numbers,. Impossibly weak