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THIS IS MY LOT, BEAUTIFUL STRANGERS.
 Take the wheel/Take it from my hands/Cause I can't do this all on my own/I'm letting go/So give me one more chance/To save me from this road I'm on I like the sound of laughter in the house. When morning comes I wake up to a day of sleep. Like jokes are just icing off the snow-machine and music a melody that rings like a soundtrack to dawn. Sometimes when you dream so far ahead, you lose yourself on cloud number nine. Sometimes you never come back. When you write letters that you don't post and put on a smile like you always do to the ice-cream man three blocks from home, what does that make you? Like Clementine I tried to rid myself of the eternal sunshine. But you cross the road hoping a careless driver would have you in his blind spot. In all stupidity you wish it would lend you a spotless mind. Skip two beats and speak in prose, your verses are far too divine. Maybe just let me take the backseat, the windscreen screams, it screams pangs of flash-backs && I can't write anymore. TonFlyingHigh!9:32 PM *** |
Behind The Wheel; 
- - - - - - - - Navigate;
- - - - - - - - Playing On My Mixtape; |