LETTER TO X...
dear x:
...sorry that we didn't let the conversation go a little bit deeper, that it turned into politics. i was willing for us to get a little bit naked, but i didn't know whose call it was...last girlfriend, we sort of dug at the loop becuz we were both sharing the same line...but, the girlfriend before that, i was really digging her music talk and when i found out that she knew more about the beatles than i did, things got a little wild...after the break up, girls, all i listen to is the rolling stones...seems to curb my strange noodle...
SIMPLY TURNED INTO A RED-HEAD FETISH...
...sometimes it is rumored that the color red in a girl makes her crazed, but that's not for sure. that is, there is no scientific evidence to make it pure. but, sometimes, with that stereotype in mind, i grow wild of the expectation that some girl is madder than me...and i stare at every red-head passing by me like she were mine...
...but, no girl or her color of hair is quite to blame for being more sane than me...i fall in love, i fall apart, and each mess i make is my own. every time i fall, i feel more alone. find it easier to erase this heart, than to depart from memories. don't want climb into trap of being entangled again, just want to be held like the last red head.
dear x:
...sorry that we didn't let the conversation go a little bit deeper, that it turned into politics. i was willing for us to get a little bit naked, but i didn't know whose call it was...last girlfriend, we sort of dug at the loop becuz we were both sharing the same line...but, the girlfriend before that, i was really digging her music talk and when i found out that she knew more about the beatles than i did, things got a little wild...after the break up, girls, all i listen to is the rolling stones...seems to curb my strange noodle...
SIMPLY TURNED INTO A RED-HEAD FETISH...
...sometimes it is rumored that the color red in a girl makes her crazed, but that's not for sure. that is, there is no scientific evidence to make it pure. but, sometimes, with that stereotype in mind, i grow wild of the expectation that some girl is madder than me...and i stare at every red-head passing by me like she were mine...
...but, no girl or her color of hair is quite to blame for being more sane than me...i fall in love, i fall apart, and each mess i make is my own. every time i fall, i feel more alone. find it easier to erase this heart, than to depart from memories. don't want climb into trap of being entangled again, just want to be held like the last red head.