another sunday blows by me
like notes from a saxophone breathing heartache
the streets are almost deserted
except for a few souls on sunday errands
with newspapers under their arms
they navigate a sea of cabs
which prowl the streets looking for that perfect fare
and whom i'snt really going anywhere
once around the city they'll say
and please wake me when we get there
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Author:
rabanal9 (
Offline) - Published: December 4th, 2016 13:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
Offline)
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