Like those ones where we kiss, and I can't keep my eyes open. Your face is inside my mind, I don't need to see you. Yet somehow we never say the words we really mean.
And I miss the times I never told you that I love you.
Oh, of the boys I haven't met and the girls I've left behind.
But it's me. I'm always alright.
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Postings of poetry, lyrics, writings and anything else. All from the typing hands of one Mr. Paul Tinhead. The fingers are magic.
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