All I need is my head
My pocket is dry
But words and anecdotes swapped are met with laughter
No need for expense to impress
Words invested in calculated topics and wit
Capture me with your conversation
Golden Fields over which we run riot
Paths made by treading feet over the long wheat
Which groan as we break their stems
Two twenty year old kids
Learning how to discover again
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« My ode to you know who | You »
Dry Pocket
@ 2008-09-23 – 23:52:59
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