![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) heffalumps and woozles. |
[05 Oct 2009|04:33pm] |
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I keep throwing it down two-hundred at a time. It's hard to find it when you knew it, when your money's gone and you're drunk as hell. On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load. In the back and the racks and the stacks are your load. In the back with your racks and you're un-stacking your load. I'm twisting to the sun I needed to replace. The fountain in the front yard is rusted out. All my love was down in a frozen ground. There's a black crow sitting across from me; his wiry legs are crossed and he's dangling my keys, he even fakes a toss. Whatever could it be that has brought me to this loss?
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