Big City Dreams
One, two, three, four,
Same name as the one before.
Five, six, seven, eight,
Became a girl my home would hate.
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve,
Left behind a southern belle.
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen,
Home is now a foreign dream.
Miles and miles and miles away,
The lines have blurred and color greyed.
Just a child, but grew up fast,
Taking you in, forgetting the past.
But between the cigs and the fernet,
I’m not sure what happens next.
You found me lying on the floor,
You gave me a week; I gave you more.
Hook, line, and dirty sinker,...