When a whiskey sun comes up it's gonna be a longer day than most.
I'm lookin' right into him.
My breath, eaten by a bleedin' hole in the sky.
Spittin' jet fuel on a bonfire.
Like that sassy gal told me, "You look long enough and you're gonna start to like what you see."
She never was in the lesson business.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
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