Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned.
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
-William Congreve
2 years ago
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
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I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
But I grow old and I forget your name.
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
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