Thursday, February 5, 2009

The River..

Me and mary we met in high school
when she was just seventeen
We'd ride out of that valley
down to where the fields were green

Now all them things that seemed so important
Well mister, they vanished right into the air
Now I just act like I dont remember,
and she acts like she dont care

At night on them banks
I'd lie awake
And pull her close
just to feel each breath she'd take.

Now those memories come back to haunt me,
they haunt me like a curse
Is a dream a lie if it dont come true
Or is it something worse?

No comments:

Post a Comment