martes, 26 de marzo de 2013

Wednesday morning, 3 a.m.

I can hear the soft breathing Of the girl that I love As she lies here beside me Asleep with the night And her hair, in a fine mist Floats on my pillow Reflecting the glow Of the winter moonlight She is soft, she is warm But my heart remains heavy And I watch as her breasts Gently rise, gently fall For I know with the first light of dawn I’ll be leaving And tonight will be All I have left to recall Oh, what have I done, Why have I done it? I’ve committed a crime, I have broken the law For twenty-five dollars And pieces of silver I held up and robbed A hard liquor store My life seems unreal, My crime an illusion A scene badly written In which I must play Yet I know as I gaze At my young love beside me The morning is just a few hours away
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