I don’t get off on this.
My promise to you
Full of platitudes.
Not being rude
In any way shape or form,
But a storm is coming.
I can smell it
And I walk the streets
Of oxford,
Bored out of my mind,
Not blind
To possibility.
Love gives you that,
But catch 22
Can I tell the truth,
I can lie no more.
If you have memories
Stored.
Reflect on them,
And if you respect them,
Just give me a clue
And I can show you
What I can do.
