i wanna tell you a story. ain't got no characters in it but me. i wanna sing you a sad song. most of it i don't expect you to believe. it starts off just the whiskey and wine, miles of travel and some real good times. but it ends in a dark corridor, and there ain't no windows and there ain't no doors.
[ It's not very comforting, but the thought is appreciated only because she doesn't pull away. She's never noticed before how much strength he has in his grip or maybe that's just the weight of a tired man looking for rest? ]
Maybe if you could just tell me how to do it instead.
[ Her voice is barely above a whisper, but does it need to be any louder when he's this close? ]
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Maybe if you could just tell me how to do it instead.
[ Her voice is barely above a whisper, but does it need to be any louder when he's this close? ]