vodkabuddha
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2005
- Messages
- 22
Off into the clinic today,
filed down and filed away.
But the time will be gone,
And the echoes of your footsteps will run you down.
The floor scratches of your youngest son,
cuffed and stuffed and bound.
A cut on the head, a lack of songs to sing,
and if I die, the pain is your’s,
I haven’t lost a thing.
filed down and filed away.
But the time will be gone,
And the echoes of your footsteps will run you down.
The floor scratches of your youngest son,
cuffed and stuffed and bound.
A cut on the head, a lack of songs to sing,
and if I die, the pain is your’s,
I haven’t lost a thing.
