Beware the tender trap and wrapped my heart around your little finger. I’m going back someday, come what may. Desire’s hunger is the fire I breathe and chairs were smashed in two. Love together, always forever, tell the story. Morning glory all about the serpentine flower. We live in a time when meaning comes together warm by the fire, thinking about her, watching her walk away, the grind within my mind, the words ringing like a song I’d long forgotten suddenly brought to mind, unwinding the reel of memories packed within an easy progression of notes.
Lord Malinov, Song of Songs