are you up too early? or down too late? did someone steal your dreams? or did you give them away? maybe that’s a question for some other time coz I’m the bastard son of a bastard son just another lazy sod with magic in his pants and I’d love to stir your pot in the horizontal dance
there’s been a revolution though
no-one fired a shot our brave new monsters are conscientiously
amoral totally natural and adjusted to the
vicissitudes of love and the demands
of iconoclast
does it burn? does
it itch? don’t get your knickers in a
twist stop your
sobbing dry your eyes I didn’t break your heart I only bent your mind it’s not your first disappointment and likely won’t be your last modern romance is a minefield and that just cracks me up
No comments:
Post a Comment