overslept this morn,
gotta be catchin' myself.
don't you rain on me
back and forth, L train.
twelve more stops 'till class begins
i did no homework.
early i'm awake,
New York City, let me sleep
work at eight ain't great.
busy busy bee,
up and down a train called V
sleep did forget me
sick as your old dog
mumbling 'till i can't no more
leave me to my self.
sometimes hear you say,
it don't smell like love to me.
i can't smell at all.
glass-bottle blues, babe.
stumblin' down this busy road,
hiccups a-plenty.
once the brown guitar
let me know not to forget
we're all folk singers.
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1 comment:
These are delectable.
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