She said, “Come meet me in the fields,
And I will give my love to you.”
He went and waited, with a heart,
But now, it’s understood —
That love is cruel when it’s not kind,
And power’s shown by giving pain,
And wheatgrass blows in empty fields
Where men give up on love
For good
It crossed my mind that might be the case.
I am your friend, i hope.
We can make them good crumbs, though. Like Italian salad good.
I can’t believe I just put “salad” and “good” in the same sentence. I’m eating a sausage biscuit to atone.
I got two biscuit’s worth of sausage, but only one biscuit’s worth of biscuit.
That’s for sure about toasters. “Burnt offerings” my dad used to call them.
I’ve also thought “we can’t hit it off too well”…
Damn… That hurt.