..:: poetry ::..

de Hold On de Tom Waits

But its so hard to dance that way
When its cold and theres no music
Well your old hometown is so far away
But, inside your head theres a record


I miss your broken-china voice


You burn your mansion to the ground


Well, he gave her a dimestore watch
And a ring made from a spoon
Everyone is looking for someone to blame
But you share my bed, you share my name
Well, go ahead and call the cops
You dont meet nice girls in coffee shops
She said baby, I still love you
Sometimes theres nothin left to do

0 No comments?: