It was way past seven
in a champagne heaven
and now they're just wishing for stars.
Arms outstretched,
they had a song on next,
from an ipod deck
while they rolled on the grass in the park.
A car drove by
like a long-term high
as they admired the expanse of the green.
She read KEATS
and he made beats
so they made out neat
when they spoke about the rage of machines.
No comments:
Post a Comment