Tuesday, September 7, 2004
Voice
Voice. That kind of smoky cigar whiskey voice That makes me want to melt in the present And forget any promises of tomorrow that were ever made to me. That I ever made. (dolce) He had that kind of smoky cigar whiskey voice. And I forgot all promises ever made. If men only knew what women are capable of If men only knew how deep our urges are and how dark our rage is, They would would stir in their sleep They would cower in the shade with fear crawling up their spine They would cover our feet...
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