Wednesday, 16 September 2015

The Word - Leaving like Saint Joan

I first saw you; you had on blue jeans. Your eyes couldn't hide anything. I saw you breathing. Saw you staring out in space. I next saw you; you was at the party. Thought you was a queen. Oh so flirty. I came against. Didn't say excuse. Knew what I was doing. We looked very fine, cause we were leaving, like Saint Joan doing a cool jerk. Oh, I want you, like a kangaroo.

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