That love is like oxygen
That love is a many-splendored thing
They dream of fairy-tales
Over coffee cups and cigarettes
They fall for stories of happily-ever-after
And make hearts with their hands
Cut out paper mache stars
Paste them on the walls
Together with black and white photographs
Of Paris, Milan and New York
They kiss on the train platform
Hold hands over a Molotov cocktail
Write love notes and leave them
In wallets
But fairy-tales are lies your momma told you
I wait 8 days a week
25 hours a day
The clock flashes 2349
The platform's empty
You're still not there
(index)
(archive)
(profile)
(extras)
(contact)
(reviews)
(lj)
(bang-)
(M)
(steal--away)
(%
(image)
(design)
(diaryland)