From this grizzled bench seat; bolt-on frame all the stains Of a junkyard sale I'm wondering if it's not just youth...you know? Old woes won't waste
sometimes its safe to hide behind a false face, This time I've got no faith to hide Just perfect hindsight. Cast me out if you can And if it's unfair,
Concentrate: can't you bear the hot blue tears? The weeks' advancing sunset lines? The winds that cripple bittersweet compassion when you waste it? ...
well be a slack knot tomorrow. Seems right to me... Your life is in your hands and all that's left is to unravel it... Thread by thread, watch it unfurl
hand love might fail the acid test... So what if this time they saved the last for best? All bets are off, all hands on deck in line to take it to the
