The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers. (delascabezas) wrote,
The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers.

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Life's so different than it is in your dreams

Clicky Me

This exposition brought to you by Fat Bart - Fat Bart, when you need to wash yourself with a stick, there is noone better to show you how.

The evening fell just like a star
Left a trail behind
You spit as you slammed out the door
If this is love we're crazy
As we fight like cats and dogs
But I just know there's got to be more

So please call me, baby
Wherever you are
It's too cold to be out walking in the streets
We do crazy things when we're wounded
Everyone's a bit insane
I don't want you catching your death of cold
Out walking in the rain

And I admit that I ain't no angel
I admit that I ain't no saint
I'm selfish and I'm cruel but you're blind
If I exorcise my devils
Well my angels may leave too
When they leave they're so hard to find

And we're always at each other's throats
You know it drives me up the wall
But most of the time I'm just blowing off steam
And I wish to God you'd leave me
Baby I wish to God you'd stay
Life's so different than it is in your dreams

Worked on The Other Thing last night for a bit. Definitely need to get rolling on that.
I also signed up for NaNoWriMo

Kill me.

If my dreams can't find a voice, they'll go mute howling in the wind before they die. I am excited and intimidated by the prospects on my table - I sit before a feast of fantastic fruit, more than half of which I know to be poison, just not which pieces specifically.

Hope everyone's week is swimming by happily.

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