bracketed by a bartending shift and bullshit before,
but in between the seamless dreams there was an ardor
like Sunday times on quick fire.
our New York City was a nicely painted nightmare,
as we traded away days in Union Square,
and it is there that I tattooed your memory
on my mind, my bicep and behind my heart.
or maybe we are Bonnie and Clyde,
too fast and too dangerous,
stealing days away from change
and letting the rain do the rest.
you are mistaken,
I am to blame for the robbery
but the words are wrong,
because it's you, my love, that I am running from.
it's a shame, too,
because we could've gotten away with it,
if it weren't for the price of passion,
and the receipts of the past's pistol pantomimes.
you are mistaken,
I am to blame for the robbery
but the words are wrong,
because it's you, my love, that I am running from.
it's a shame, too,
because we could've gotten away with it,
if it weren't for the price of passion,
and the receipts of the past's pistol pantomimes.