Her hands are cold, but her lips are warm./…
down where she wanders the sailors hang…
moistened another time… she aint no english rose…
post modem .. just past the library
Her hands are cold, but her lips are warm./…
down where she wanders the sailors hang…
moistened another time… she aint no english rose…
still got the pick of the pecks…
sthank: “”
You must be logged in to post a comment.