Someday I'm gonna leave this dirty little town,
Where the talk is cheap on the dirty little streets,
And the trees are dying underneath a sky that's purple and brown.
Folks round here say I'll never go,
But there's something about me that they don't know.
I've already left this place in my mind,
Till my body goes, it's just a matter of time.
Where the talk is cheap on the dirty little streets,
And the trees are dying underneath a sky that's purple and brown.
Folks round here say I'll never go,
But there's something about me that they don't know.
I've already left this place in my mind,
Till my body goes, it's just a matter of time.
5 comments:
Cold? Please. My temp says you're at 39 for a high today. Wear gloves, yes. But don't talk about cold. Or I'll get you one of those face masks to run in.
Sheesh. It was mid-20s went I set out, and snow was blowing in my face. It was cold.
Do you mean someting like this?
Yes, you got it. Whine it and wear it!
Huh.
Huh.
Post a Comment