"[I]f an American jumps out of an airplane, you can't sell him a parachute until after he hits the ground.
...Hours pass, and she still counts the minutes that I am not there..
I swear I didn’t mean for it to feel like this—like every inch of me is bruised
Like twenty miles of catacombs
and now you’re with me in my heart
Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map