me and mrs jones We meet every day at the same cafe Six-thirty and no one knows she'll be there Holding hands, making all kinds of plans While the juke box plays our favorite songs
Friday, September 25, 2009
Confused and left alone. When the only shining light at the end of the tunnel, Fades into a tinted shade of grey.
Close your eyes, hold on. It might just be over when you open your eyes.