Good things are becoming familiar
I am no longer asking to be loved because my heart is a door, not everyone should have a key.
The sun is a shining again and the snow is melting, and I'm alive.
Money is finding me to be a good friend and she stops by often these days,
my body waltz through my room naked and she calls me sacred.
Blue is just a color in the sky
not my mood, not my...
The sun is a shining again and the snow is melting, and I'm alive.
Money is finding me to be a good friend and she stops by often these days,
my body waltz through my room naked and she calls me sacred.
Blue is just a color in the sky
not my mood, not my...