Day after day, love turns grey, like the skin on a dying man

And night after night, we pretend it's alright
But I have grown older, and you have grown colder
And nothing is very much fun anymore
And I can feel one of my turns coming on.
I feel cold as a razor blade, Tight as a tourniquet,
Dry as a funeral drum.

is what popped into my head when I read that post. Must be a lack of gin. Can't remedy that until half time...

Posted By: Old Man, Apr 9, 15:33:12