dimanche 10 janvier 2016

All of This

Then he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jacket,
Says that I have nothing left to be sorry for

And I want to tell him about love and all of this
As I watch his brown eyes lock into place

Like a sniper who holds his breath as he looks down the barrel
Preparing to watch a bullet fly through its target and land God knows where

And that’s what physicists call “Newton’s Fourth Law Of
All of This

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