a midnight wood catches fire
putting out a cigarette / too late to lie
on rolling kilometers: you have seen more than just the soles of our shoes
regrets, rips, diluting rain, and one nights for stands or simple revenge
like the one that inevitably goes west and comes back at an angle
we
catch fire
almost spontaneously, in a circle
it's too late to lie.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment