He'll stay up all night to saygoodbye to her a thousand timesmiles make her wary but he is waitingwhen their hands touch even I feel the sparksher smi..
The truth is that I lit the cigaretteAnd every fictional metaphor for letting death inFrom Hemingway to Poe to GreenI was that kid that almost bit itI..
Last winter, Donna was driving me home and we were laughing so hard we didn't see the buck that ran across the road, escaping the car by literal inche..