filLed wITh smoke.
There was a run-over vinyl,
that summed up the night,
one filled with tall boys,
and tall bois, and loser ones wanting to fight.
There was a paper airplane,
that carried his dream,
at 45 degrees he was at full tilt,
and full tilt, she shared, fuck issues of self- EST-team.
Good morning, good afternoon,
no goodbyes, but a definite good night,
I later, was told there were fireworks,
who needs fireworks..? When you’re grasping thunder as ligh
(_ x _ _ _ o _ _ i n a i r _)
billy joel | the stranger | nineteen seventy seven