Your hands are worked,
and feet are worn, but the axis, it did not break. So the years were radical. Life, an economists dream; and with your steady gaze, a simple path it all seemed. I thank you for, the philosophies learned, sitting on porches - farm and lake. Not a word of yours, I hope you know, for granted did I take. Your hands are worked, and feet are worn, the axis, it did not break. The world is still rotating, and we're doing just fine. Your wise and gentle soul, held me together all this time.
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Baby we're bad,
we're bad for each other. Had my head on straight, and you've got it spinning 'round, 'round, round. Take my hand, pull my hair, pull me down, down, down. Your face screams trouble and it's perfect, mix our madness in the sheets to forget. Awed by the alignment, taken by the timing, you're my religion, sweet with sin, on my knees and smiling. Baby we're bad, but so good for each other. Consume me with your mind, body, and soul. Kiss my lips and everywhere else, while we dance to that rock 'n' roll. I got the black leather skirt,
you got the eyes that yearn, I got the kiss that kills, you teach me all that's left to learn. This happy thing is new, baby's been all locked into the blues. You're a rock 'n' roll man, damn, if I'm falling for you. Damn, am I falling for you. Paint me like one of your goth queens, I wanna be more than a muse. You're a rock 'n' roll man, damn if I'm falling for you. Damn, am I falling for you. Seven degrees of separation, seven deadly sins, seven wonders of the world, Don't mean shit when you're a ten. Brooding boy,
how I read you like Karouac, and sip on you like Jack. Reversing words, moments, memories; leave you longing for what could be, what should be, what-ever. You look at me like I'm magic, You look at me like a lover. But I'm On the Road already, I promise I'm not looking back. Your cinematic theories and flattery; solidarity and security lack. And while our mind's can meet, our bodies, can not. And as you look at me like I'm magic, You're right - I've already forgot. I'm On the Road already, time, a peculiar thing. But one day she will look at you, and you'll know exactly what I mean. |
Sydne Kilberg"She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something." Archives
February 2016
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