Love came along in my life. Hell...Christ...Cigarettes! I couldn't forgive my passion, the way it made me feel as I looked to jesus drying up in the sun. The metaphors deserve all the glory don't they? Thinking of big nights and warm lips, and all while just wanting to ****. Golden eyes resting on the gold of god, who was really just burning to see me a cowboy pacing west like a turtle. Still standing on tight-line-friends yearning from a choir of grace and speachless as nothing happens save the rise of an old moon, rest it's soul. Yet I simply cared to think of days without the open smoke which was lighter than my fingers as I touched you hard within stammers of each breathe. Years gone by and still sure he'd lost; swearing on everlasting angels.