"And I am a writer, writer of fictions. I am the heart that you call home, and I've written pages upon pages
trying to rid you from my bones."
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Kissin' birds with paper cuts..
Start talkin' to myself, 'cos you aren't 'round, and I'm talkin' to the moon, 'cos sometimes you just need sound. I ain't never been in love, but I sure am waitin'. Set my house on fire, 'cos I'd rather sit with you in the rain..