Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Wednesday morning, 3am

I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that I love,
As she lies here beside me
Asleep with the night,
And her hair, in a fine mist floats on my pillow,
Reflecting the glow
Of the winter moonlight.

She is soft, she is warm, but my heart remains heavy,
And I watch as her breasts
Gently rise, gently fall,
For I know with the first light of dawn I'll be leaving,
And tonight will be
All I have left to recall.

Oh, what have I done, why have I done it,
I've committed a crime,
I've broken the law.
For twenty-five dollars and pieces of silver,
I held up and robbed
A hard liquor store.

My life seems unreal, my crime an illusion,
A scene badly written
In which I must play.
Yet I know as I gaze at my young love beside me,
The morning is just a few hours away.

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