I can still feel the shadow of your touch,
Taste the passion of your kiss
lookin’ for a lover who will come on in and cover me
you still won’t understand
There’s a special hustle spirit in someone who will endure not only a marathon of spontaneous dance routines, but do so in the early summer humidity of the Big Easy
One last breath ’til the tears start to wither
always. every time.
Well except that cracked window stuff.