Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Like White On Rice


He looks like a white bullet
Following my black car
And I look like the dark Queen
Streaming from his dark star
Oh we look like the wrong way
Travelled way too joyously far
Affixed like a hat to a headless someone
Covering a scar
Like delicate fingers
Strumming a stringless guitar
He looks like nothing I've ever seen in this bar.


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