don't you ever feel it's a bitch to sleep alone
dont you ever feel like your hands need hips to hold
don't you ever get dizzy from swinging and swinging open locked doors
tell me, what will your tongue do when lying leaves it sore
and you're lying on the floor
can't recall the name of the lay you last lured home
dont you ever long for legs to call your own
01/06
love me
- dolly at school
- She was Lo. Plain Lo in the morning. Standing five foot two in one sock. She smoked in her car and sang to herself. She wrote songs in her head when you took her on dates. She was jazz. She was the blues. She was high. She was not an artist, but she was good at a few things. That's why they still call her. And you should keep reading.
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