07-07-2011, 02:30 PM
I'd follow you. I would. Follow, I would. Down, deeper, down.
Past the six-step marker, the bones, thugs, and flies.
Past the twelve-minute lovers whose skin sears the pavement.
Long past the since-been jukebox flipped it's first record,
quite untimely, that I know of. 'Mancing and dancing,
knees thrown overhead in sleazed, swiped, foggy-shine cars.
Past the church that's burned, alone, by itself,
humbly for thirty-three. For thirty-three times it stood.
I'd follow you. I would. Follow you I would.
Past the six-step marker, the bones, thugs, and flies.
Past the twelve-minute lovers whose skin sears the pavement.
Long past the since-been jukebox flipped it's first record,
quite untimely, that I know of. 'Mancing and dancing,
knees thrown overhead in sleazed, swiped, foggy-shine cars.
Past the church that's burned, alone, by itself,
humbly for thirty-three. For thirty-three times it stood.
I'd follow you. I would. Follow you I would.