You may have to finish this story for me.
Those Picasso-painted smiles will fool no one. They fail to conceal your shallow lies, deceit, and duplicity. Guernica, the pain…
When I think of the future,I think of oranges.
I’ve got a dollar,
Before the blast, friends had filled the ballroom and the hallways with a levity perhaps…
I can’t help myself, you know,I am lovesick, and you are my medicineAn overdose even feels better; with you, I can’t get enough.
I’m so tired of working like a dogWorrying about all the thingsThat don’t meanA damn thing to me