jueves, 27 de enero de 2011

The grass isn't always as green

This town used to be a pretty place to stay, a place you stop off on the highway.
But all of those things changed on the day. 
You packed up your bags
and you ran away.

I count the empty bottles upon the bar, but I give up I can't count that far.

                                                                                        All they say is how you've changed

1 comentario: