Lauren

Face polished as stone, asks what's it’s to be, tells me all you know, chipped away at by time, the daily useless commentary, who can answer that, neck splashed with Cologne, clouds hang meticously, zoomed out like photos, On Sundays we drink wine, until time freezes, she is not unkind, tunes suddenly echo, and dance beside the sea, it's easy to lose focus, out house on the line, trails bottom of a loan, you can smell the limes, as we taste the ozone, we are beyond carefree, listen to the phermones, who needs TV?