Killer Songs
All photographs (C) me
Labels
The Bar
The Kitchen
The Songlines
And at night she spoke to him of things heard only in hell
I had so much to tell you but it never came to words
twistin our propellers, dropping at the froth
I think I'll head home
I am not a robot
You've been acting awful tough lately
Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately
But inside, you're just a little baby
It's okay to say you've got a weak spot
You don't always have to be on top
Better to be hated than love, love, loved for what you're not
And the moon's a silver slipper
And the moon's a silver slipper
It's pouring champagne stars
Broadway's like a serpent
Pulling shiny top-down cars
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