scratch my name on your arm with a fountain pen...

i will never ever grow tired of these gents though at times my heart has strayed...
"This is the last night of the fair
And the grease in the hair
Of a speedway operator
Is all a tremulous heart requires
A schoolgirl is denied
She said : "How quickly would I die
If I jumped from the top of the parachutes ?"
i curse the day that i discarded my once beloved Smith's t-shirt
years ago
on a sunny island
down a dingy alley
my ways too cool for the angst of a previous year...