The Bridge
The bridge is like a Wicked Lady that I loved.
What is this feeling?
The nostalgia that the post-dream contemplation brings is far more drowning than the dream itself
To see her through my eyes, I’d have to visit the places that I have never been to
Can I be there tonight, where you sit like a bird on a nest?Your bed is royal blue and your room the Queen’s quarterI like how you…
When people love, they must be thought of as trains careening through a desert rail-road to a final…