Untitled

Dark
Sweetly shifting in sticky aura of
Our lives.
Because, quite frankly.
I never remembered the waterfront
This daring to be beautiful
At night,
I scooped a shred of soil tossing about dew tendrils of grass.
The liquid made love to foam and we were there as well
Fingers greased in tofu dogs, turning down the acoustic some
Because, quite frankly,
Spring was popping through the clouds
Sweet swells of summer
Dreaming to cry.
And there was no sound to waste
None to waste to the songs of the shore we found.
So we lay back in the pleather
Our fingers flew to feather and I recalled addictions
I remember sinning in caffeine and cheap tacos
Telling you I love you
I want to love you
Making love with love made for show
Because quite frankly.
I love so many more than men
And I breathe deep in sour drives
Covered in lace and dirty wine
Dreaming in a new kind of language
The one where the children go to sleep
And cannot wake but to war
Of books
We cannot carry Keats in our hearts any longer
Because quite frankly,
There’s too many worlds to save
Of the songs we play,
In a Belle and Sebastian kind of way.
I buried the dirt again
I took the time to mark the passing hour
And of all the screaming animals in
Surfer shirts and three piece suits
I only saw through to you.
I Only saw through to you.

Untitled by ~MusicinRegine

Dark
Sweetly shifting in sticky aura of Our lives. Because, quite frankly. I never remembered the waterfront This daring to be beautiful At night, I scooped a shred of soil tossing about dew tendrils of grass. The liquid made love to foam and we were there as well Fingers greased in tofu dogs, turning down the acoustic some Because, quite frankly, Spring was popping through the clouds Sweet swells of summer
Dreaming to cry. And there was no sound to waste None to waste to the songs of the shore we found. So we lay back in the pleather Our f

Drag and Drop to Collect

- Music in Regine, 2007

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Dark
Sweetly shifting in sticky aura of Our lives. Because, quite frankly. I never remembered the waterfront This daring to be beautiful At night, I scooped a shred of soil tossing about dew tendrils of grass. The liquid made love to foam and we were there as well Fingers greased in tofu dogs, turning down the acoustic some Because, quite frankly, Spring was popping through the clouds Sweet swells of summer
Dreaming to cry. And there was no sound to waste None to waste to the songs of the shore we found. So we lay back in the pleather Our f