Got a pocketful of nothing
(Ashes, ashes)
Who are we to say it's over?
I have a fistful of dollars,
What will you trade me for them?
I hold your heart by a string
Treat it like a yo-yo.
Will you listen when I speak?
Things moving at the corner of my vision
And I just hope I can remain silent about them.
You know what I'm talking about,
You know what everyone is talking about.
Exercises in playful meanderings
Exercises in futile wanderings.
Please excuse the mess of my dreams,
Just passing through your bleak reality,
Tasting on my tongue this sanguine addiction
(Reach for it)
I can feel your heart beneath my hands
Strings vibrating.
You are my symphony
I was messing around with Dr. Wicked's Writing Lab and this spewed out. I can tell you that it took me five minutes. Yay widget?
Thursday, January 21, 2010
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