Romance is dead
for all we care, or so it seems.
And
So summer’s here again
and like children,
we run around these streets
I read your call sign; Butterfly.
Thoughts of wings open wide,
Too cold, like ice to touch.
You hold on far to
I’m so sorry for the things I’ve done
And what I
Moments like this;
precious with no regrets.
Like whispers on my neck.
No
What’s this?
Don’t bother listing your dependancies.
We already know that yo
So here we are again at the start,
Lets get stuck.
These
Another night with my friends that I’m starting to regret
Another
» More on This Town Needs Guns