We can hold hands,
Until the stones go cold.
And we can cast them at glass houses.
The one we call our own.
When all that matters
Is shattered and scattered.
And all the winds have blown.
It seems that tattered and splattered
Is all we've ever known.
I've the photos on my phone.
Let this be my final testament.
My ode in a ringtone.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 11:29 PM UTC
We can hold hands,
Until the stones go cold.
And we can cast them at glass houses.
The one we call our own.
When all that matters
Is shattered and scattered.
And all the winds have blown.
It seems that tattered and splattered
Is all we've ever known.
I've the photos on my phone.
Let this be my final testament.
My ode in a ringtone.
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