skip to main
|
skip to sidebar
Great Granite City
We don't exactly have God. We just sit and try to stay awake.
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Porchlight / The Mummy's Hand
So stubborn the porchlight
over your open door.
So harsh your voice,
so hollow your promises
that we'll rise from this depth
eventually.
So cold your hand on mine.
So stubborn your love.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment