Half asleep with the sun coming up out east. We’re driving down Garfield Ave when you said a strange and significant thing: I can remember the words “this was, a beautiful night, It won’t ever happen this way again.”
No my dear, nothing much grows around here. We carry our roots with us, a couple of weeds, pulled up.
Misguided girl you’ll be the heroine of my book. The plot is the course we took, The setting can’t be no where else in the world. And the story opens up with you, Your broken dreams and cheap perfume.