Nights like these
Are what makes poetry
So easy, sometimes
Cause when I think of my lines
My head starts to smoke
And I begin to choke
As I remember the places
And cry away the faces
The more I look toward
The end, I know I'm gonna crack
Even though I keep pointing a finger forward
I keep pointing three back
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
Nights like these
Are what makes poetry
So easy, sometimes
Cause when I think of my lines
My head starts to smoke
And I begin to choke
As I remember the places
And cry away the faces
The more I look toward
The end, I know I'm gonna crack
Even though I keep pointing a finger forward
I keep pointing three back