She's cold to the touch,
keeping back too much.
He's locked in her mind,
the man who was once kind.
Not looking at emotions,
but never pledging his devotions.
He kept it to himself,
his feelings on a shelf.
Where she couldn't reach,
she decided not to preach.
But told him how she felt,
hit her with a belt.
"I'm sorry, you make me insane."
You flow through my veins like a hit of cocaine.
She rose heavy-hearted and walked to the door,
to tread down that fake gleaming path once more.
Haha. I was commenting on a picture by the artist directly below me and thought I'd give your gallery a look. With a username that interesting, I just had to. XD
we'll be double-clutchin', downshifting, and all you'll hear is the blowoff valve of my turbo hissing in front of you while I pass you in my SI. I'll be smoking a blunt at the finish line and be like "nigga, what took you so long?"