(PØstCaRd}--->

January 2, 2009
By Clint Ruttan, Stratford,

Starring out the window of my thirteenth floor apartment.
viewing memories of you from my hearts secret compartment.
i'd send you a postcard if there wasn't so much fear.
a tacky little thing that says "I wish that you were here"

took all your notes and threw them on the fire.
they only remind me that your a born liar.
when I hear church bells I shiver in my shoes.
thinking of the life I was set to lose.

I miss you but I don't know how in words to put it down.
and if I could i'd mail it to your secret little town.
birds are flying south and it makes me think of you.
because I know if you could fly that's just what you would do.

took all your notes and threw them on the fire.
they only remind me that your a born liar.
when I hear church bells I shiver in my shoes.
thinking of the life I was set to lose.

skeletons dance behind all my closed doors.
I use to spend my nights in the company of wh****.
you scream "f**k the system" from any random roof.
and yet your life is lacking in anarchist proof.

took all your notes and threw them on the fire.
they only remind me that your a born liar.
when I hear church bells I shiver in my shoes.
thinking of the life I was set to lose.

The author's comments:
this is a song about loving the wrong person.

at the wrong time.

its about wanting what you had instead of enjoying what you have.

its but a small review of a tiny scene in the beautiful film festival we call life.

please... enjoy.

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