| | the dead men lay dying for their choices
a drizzle of moon lit fog
the alcohol dredged pupils
a/swaying\swagger/down\the/alley
the worlds asleep and hes drunk
spindle of lies
[tightly wound]
needle of love
[dulled in repeated uses]
thread of family
[frayed by distance]
when the sunrises will we still be angry with yesterday?
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| | Posted 10/26/2005 3:30 AM - 1 View - 4 eProps - 3 comments
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