7.12.2010

This Is The End

When the shit hit the fan we drowned with our boots on like Army Rangers in the desert.

A bird zig - zagged across the horizon like a tangled web we wove.

In our lost world happiness is more than a state of mind and everything rolls down the hill

Like a runaway train trapped in reverse.

A vague memory tasted like sunshine on your cheek after making love beside your parents' pool.

We were forbidden to see each other.

Those were the days. What happened to the good old days? Are they long gone forever?

We transformed ourselves into a stack of wet firewood

And waited for the inevitable

To seep under the door

Like dope smoke in the barracks hall.

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