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A pair of jeans I faded well
Colored earrings that caught my hair
A laugh that echoed as a bell
You were my devil, I was your care
Hard winds would stir your weary face
You blew them back into my eyes
Just take the first train from this place
I've grown too bold, I'll realize
Her hair an oil spill in the sun
I brushed it down and called it mine
Her mouth the barrel of a gun
I stared it down and read the line
She found her place within the sky
Her glow will find me if I stare
But I can't see where spirits lie
I found my devil, and I don't care
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A plan is just a list of things that don't happen.
Last edited by Bob Biter; 10-08-2005 at 08:24 AM..
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