She was a cold beer on a scorching summer day.
She was a fast motorcycle.
A fine cigar.
The cool side of the pillow.
She was the sweet sweet ache in every bone in his body.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
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Tell me you had bad dreams last night. Cause you were rolling in your sleep. Tell me you hate those bright street lights. Sometimes the shadows give you the creeps.
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