Saturday, February 7, 2009
It was ice cream headaches and sweet avalanche,When the pearls in our shells came out to dance,
You call me a bad tipper of the cradle,
Tired yawns for fawns on hunter’s lawns
We’re the has-beens of husbands,
Sharpening the knives of young wives,
Take two years and call me when you're better,
Take tears of mine, find yourself wetter