It was the crank of the chainThat sent rust to my fingertipsI smoked it slowerBut always to the lineWe pretended it was 1998And we were Wynona Rider v..
Sometimes when you're talking I focus on your mouth until the lines of your lips are sewn together by a trail of dashed ink with the instructions "cut..
We set ships afloat in claw foot bathtub harborsArmed with soap dish cannonsAnchored beneath the mast of your backCareening in the spate of your waves..