Tired face, a stooping soul
tottering like an old man
expelled from love he lost his foothold
no hands to support him when he stoops
no heart to bid him welcome back
alone he loses track of himself
Whatever did he do to deserve this?
Oh, he grew from a dish to a washout
- or so she said
Love is a fickle creature
some even say a figment of the imagination
also it's a helping hand, a warm heart
it's a home with a cosy fireplace
a place to fall asleep
to forget the beloved one over the cosiness
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Originally Posted On Site: 2010-08-06 05:11:39
Last Login: 01.28.12
Visits as of 12-12-07: 88
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