
Roses are…um…
My love is like my writer’s block
It sneaks up from behind,
It twists me like a weathersock,
It leaves me deaf and blind,
My confidences sharply fade,
My workings have resigned,
As all at once, my serenades
Have quite escaped my mind.
Roses are…um…
My love is like my writer’s block
It sneaks up from behind,
It twists me like a weathersock,
It leaves me deaf and blind,
My confidences sharply fade,
My workings have resigned,
As all at once, my serenades
Have quite escaped my mind.