the big big summercrispy_riceAugust 23 2005, 09:27:47 UTC
im happy i spend it in u.s because it's not so hot as it is probably in Israel. i really love the rain and the wintery times better.. so im not sad about that, more about you guys leaving.
We can will the night into dawn, delicately, on the smoke of a few words, chosen like petals from a flower, he loves me, he touches me, he loves me not, touches me not.
I want to steal all your lines, string them together and make them into folklore, baby. We can will the night into dawn, delicately, on the smoke of a few words, chosen like petals from a flower, he loves me, he touches me, he loves me not, touches me not. The swings are dirtier even than your hair, but I got to fly, so I look up and I can see the stars, I see Cassiopea, constellation queen, her crown makes this lop sided W like a young god scribbled it on before he passed penmanship.
The house is a mess, darling, but I’ve been working - the crumbs are still on the counter. The counters are so big you could push the bagels back a little, and sleep on them, wake up, drink cold water, and drift back through an ocean of petal-fish. Give me your folklores, the bottom of my glass sees blurry with clouds, scribbles and leaves that will fall too soon, oh how the queen brings with her summer coming to its end.
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We can will the night
into dawn, delicately, on the smoke
of a few words, chosen like petals
from a flower, he loves me, he
touches me, he loves me not, touches me
not.
Reply
string them together and make them into
folklore, baby. We can will the night
into dawn, delicately, on the smoke
of a few words, chosen like petals
from a flower, he loves me, he
touches me, he loves me not, touches me
not. The swings are dirtier even
than your hair, but I got to fly, so
I look up and I can see the stars,
I see Cassiopea, constellation queen,
her crown makes this lop sided
W like a young god scribbled it on
before he passed penmanship.
The house is a mess, darling, but I’ve
been working - the crumbs are still
on the counter. The counters are so big
you could push the bagels back a little,
and sleep on them, wake up,
drink cold water, and drift back
through an ocean of petal-fish.
Give me your folklores,
the bottom of my glass sees blurry
with clouds, scribbles and leaves
that will fall too soon,
oh how the queen brings with her
summer coming to its end.
Reply
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