When you're stoned, baby, I am drunk.And we make love, it seems a little desolateIt's hard sometimes not to look awayAnd think what's the point when I'm having to hold this fire downI think I'll explode if I can't feel this freely now. When your stalled baby take me home.
Time was awayand somewhere else.
Curse away!And let me tell thee, Beauseant, a wise proverbThe Arabs have,—"Curses are like young chickens,And still come home to roost."edward bulwer-lytton
If thou would'st have me sing and playAs once I play'd and sung,First take this time-worn lute away,And bring one freshly strung.thomas moore
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