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Living dead in America

Making my way in a world that tells me not to.

April 20, 2009

Troubadour

you're a pretty troubadour
with rhinestones in your hair
diamonds in my eyes
vivacious as your stare

heaven, if it not below us lies,
may rain down judgment, but
without fiery passion has naught
with which us to crucify

so for now, forever
be thou not by my side
but rather, be a part
of this life, and mine.
Posted by cardboardjesus at 1:38 AM

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