Take me home,
I am loving this rush.
Room swirling,
words dancing,
poets singing.
Numb tongues
and loose lips.
Wishing you were here
to take me to the places I want.
The only Southern Comfort
I know is the southern twang in your voice.
Come back,
back to my arms,
back to my home.
I am the most like me
when I am with you.
I wish you were here
to take me back.
My numbness would be gone,
the hollowness too.
It's only you I see,
and till this glass is gone
you will be on my mind.
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 8:31 PM UTC
Take me home,
I am loving this rush.
Room swirling,
words dancing,
poets singing.
Numb tongues
and loose lips.
Wishing you were here
to take me to the places I want.
The only Southern Comfort
I know is the southern twang in your voice.
Come back,
back to my arms,
back to my home.
I am the most like me
when I am with you.
I wish you were here
to take me back.
My numbness would be gone,
the hollowness too.
It's only you I see,
and till this glass is gone
you will be on my mind.
