Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Oh! Peter...

Your head in your hands on the edge of the bed
She's sleeping gently in her head

You know nothing's going to work out right
You know nothing's going to be just fine
You know nothing's going to work out now that you've crossed that line

You see a devil in the mirror
You see an image coming clearer

Doesn't she know that you're leaving this time
Doesn't she know that you're already gone
Doesn't she know that you're leaving this time

You're pacing the floor like you're going somewhere
You run your hands gently through her hair

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