Gonna cuss the morning,
When it comes.
Cause I know that the rising sun,
Ain't no good for me.
Cause you'll have to leave.
Gonna make the most of every mile.
Do anything to make your smile,
Land on my lips.
And get drunk on your kiss.
The clock on the dash,
Says 3:35.
There's plenty of gas,
And the night's still alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment