Oh. You touch my tralala.
Mmmmm. My ding ding dong.

Thursday 25 June, 2009
Should I write myself out of the history books,
And mark a place in time
for every chance you took,
Don't get me wrong
I know you've got your life in place
I've yet to take the hint,
Someday I'm sure I'll get the picture,
And stop waiting up...

When it all comes down,
To a sunrise on the east side,
Will you be there to carry home,
The remains of my wasted youth,
This wasted time on you
Has left me shaking in waiting,
Shaking in waiting for something more.


How true.


A thousand balls. I have few.
You have none.