Plastic blue
Invitations in my room
I've been waiting here
I think my friend said, "I hear footsteps."
I wore my
It's getting late
It all just wanes and pales and
They're getting ugly
They're a horror show
And now we're laughing
Because the
Hands cover whispers of the lovers' fright
Fear-cloaked renditions of that
Five glasses changed my mind.
Seems like the ticking hands are
And boys are so cold
They speak without meaning
The only time
Her fabulous invention, what strange imagination shown
Her gloroius intentions,
Next phase, next craze, next nothing new.
Got the pretty boy
The tragic comedy divine,
Paints the way to peace of mind.
Leaving