It's played with much anguish
This twisted, seething game
Where you search and find and hold in your hands
To lose it all again
The 'it',usually, in poetic minds,
could be love, life, or time;
But in truth, it's just the house key
And nothing too sublime
This twisted, seething game
Where you search and find and hold in your hands
To lose it all again
The 'it',usually, in poetic minds,
could be love, life, or time;
But in truth, it's just the house key
And nothing too sublime
Comments
Sounds quite scornful to me :D
Nice!
Cheers,
Me