Golden.

April 1, 2009
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A day away from hopelessness
You got me by the britches.
Singing roses, buying me songs
Like I could ever repay you for the memories.
They seem to be on rent
Like I'm stealing them from someone else.
just one smile and I was glued.
they wonder,
but how can I NOT be stuck to you?

But they'll see.
Same as after you get to know me.
There was never a question,
it was meant to be sung like a dream.

Slide on down, but you can't hide.
I see you from my hiding place.
My neat little cloud
atop golden umbrellas.
They stuff me up safe, off the ground.





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