*I hear the drizzle of the rain...*
It is a Simon and Garfunkel night.
A night for simple harmonies and poignant lyrics.
A night for understatements, for sleepy melodies, for haunting voices.
It is a Simon and Garfunkel night.
It is a robe-wearing night.
A night for soft fabric and a perpetual terrycloth hug.
A night for warmth seeping into bones, for flushed cheeks, for security.
It is a robe-wearing night.
It is a something-else night.
A night for winged dreams and grand wishes.
A night for forgetting the present, for masking reality, for looking elsewhere.
It is a something-else night.
I hope this will be the last night.
The last night for bad poetry and the blues.
The last night for drowsy apathy, for permanent pouts, for waiting on the beginning.
I hope this will be the last night.
(This was for Kelsey. The only reason I don't constantly update livejournal is to save my somewhat crumbling image of detached independence and having better things to do).
A night for simple harmonies and poignant lyrics.
A night for understatements, for sleepy melodies, for haunting voices.
It is a Simon and Garfunkel night.
It is a robe-wearing night.
A night for soft fabric and a perpetual terrycloth hug.
A night for warmth seeping into bones, for flushed cheeks, for security.
It is a robe-wearing night.
It is a something-else night.
A night for winged dreams and grand wishes.
A night for forgetting the present, for masking reality, for looking elsewhere.
It is a something-else night.
I hope this will be the last night.
The last night for bad poetry and the blues.
The last night for drowsy apathy, for permanent pouts, for waiting on the beginning.
I hope this will be the last night.
(This was for Kelsey. The only reason I don't constantly update livejournal is to save my somewhat crumbling image of detached independence and having better things to do).