May 2, 2011
Please let's leave for a holiday today.
Quit your life and we'll be on our way with the sun in our face.
I am so guilty, but you are so pretty.
Real bad is what I've got.
I'm at the bottom. You're at the top.
A shade of skin that shows no mercy.
Your lips are a sunset that sets over me, and only me.
I'm just like a tree. I'll grow roots underneath you. This ground used to be nothing but soil.
No comments:
Post a Comment