I'm miles from where you are, I lay down on the cold gound. I, I pray that something picks me up. And sets me down in your warm arms. After I have travelled so far. We'd set the fire to the third bar. We'd share each other like an island. Until exhausted, close our eyelids. And dreaming, pick up from. The last place we left off. Your soft skin is weeping. A joy you can't keep in. I'm miles from where you are, I lay down on the cold gound. And I, I pray that something picks me up. and sets me down in your warm arms. And miles from where you are, I lay down on the cold gound. and I, I pray that something picks me up. and sets me down in your warm arms.
recycled riot · Mon Aug 06, 2007 @ 12:22am · 0 Comments |