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The Beauty in framesThe Beauty in FramesThe Beauty in frames
There's a small patch of grass On the edge of this town Where we'd sit And share our fears
Where our youthful existence Was perfectly framed By an elderly man's Brown picket fence
And my eyes were locked on to your eyes While your eyes were lost in the sky
But your hand kept close to mine Most of the time
And every time that you cried I'd say, "It's all right"
Every time that you cried I'd say, "It's all righ
by ~SendMeFlying
Silver moonby *ftourini
NarcoticsStrings and Streams, Flows of consciousness. Dripping onto the floorboards. Leaking into tomorrow.Narcotics
It doesn't matter, just keep paying up front. Evenings forgotten and mornings trying to remember. A failsafe for the cloudy head.
Pop another. Drain it down. Semi-shuteye, Semi-coherent. Watching yourself from above - &n
by ~punkerbunker
Rush HourIt's rush hour on the M25 and forty-two years ago I'd want to be a cowboy that, or a policeman.Rush Hour
Then came those evenings with the tobacco strewn desk with that flexi-lamp placed a spotlight on that little green lump. Igniting and billowing over the sound of comfort
by ~punkerbunker
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