People passing
Pushing pencils
Advertising
Halving prices
Here it goes
I missed the war
But pay the price
In solid oil
The city's cold
Clean, fresh snow
I bite my lip
Hold my tongue
Fashion, fashion
For Monday's ration
My clothes are old
I'm still alone
"Can we go?"
I ask the air
But no one's home,
No one's home.
I feel a chill
My tongue is froze
Leave me alone
No one's home.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
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