Oct 2015
She wrote his songs
He played them.
She thought for hours, about harmonies and melodies, chords and steps, words and rhymes.
He played them.
They decided he was great, poetic and good.
He decided he liked that.
She wrote his songs.
He played them.
He played them.
She thought for hours, about harmonies and melodies, chords and steps, words and rhymes.
He played them.
They decided he was great, poetic and good.
He decided he liked that.
She wrote his songs.
He played them.
This is about a person whom I've realised probably writes the songs of everyone. She doesn't write her own songs. And that's sad.
