Saturday, 13 June 2009

Song at the mo': The (Shipped) Gold Standard

She paints me feathers so I can fly.
He hooks downturned corners
and drags out a smile.
And I'm sprinkled with sugar from their words.

Fuled by love I feel closer to my destination before I even taxied out.

Goddess... stop!
A number makes half a girl cry.
Overusing words,
I do not crackle nor spark.

No comments:

Post a Comment