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pass me that wrench

Contributed by caleb on Friday, 1st July 2005 @ 11:08:03 AM in AEST
Topic: Event

Mincing my words to paint a pain diluted stops right here.
My inner man fell long ago beneath the essex smile.
Who loves to place me on the bench, while sloths have match-time.
The hope that used to be my middle name, has now been stamped upon the wrench i see upon my path.
So go please call a surgeon bud, this is not sweat but blood.
These mind games are to blame for times i danced alone with shame.
How can one girl kiss and tell, and leave a young man's heart unwell, as she holds hands with Mordor's men, again.
Never trust a western smile, but run a mile.

Copyright © caleb ... [ 2005-07-01 11:08:03]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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