And the stare from her eyes

Penetrates deeply 

Into the planned calendar 

I've had pinned in my mind

For longer than I can remember

She's looking for her date

She's looking for her month

She's trying to find the years

In my life 

To which we'll be together

July 15th

She's been planning that date

For quite some time now

Or so her friends claim

I hate being the bringer of bad news

But 

July 15th

Isn't for sharing or mutual experiences

It's my date

My birthday 

If I was young I'd flee this town

I'd bury my dreams underground

As did I we drink to die

We drink tonight

Far from home

Elephant Guns

Let's take them down 

One by one

It's not been found

It's not around

Let the seasons begin

It rolls right on

Let the seasons begin

Take the big king down.

I miss writing but I can never figure out anymore the right things to say.  That's sad.  That makes me sad.  

I wish I could play the trumpet or something from the horn section.  Something that could be considered classy and filled with lust.  The bass is neither of that.  

West.

Let's start brewing beer

To help us forget 

It doesn't seem too hard

And the cost seems about right

We'll finally be masters of a trade

And after we've brewed enough

Made enough

I'll be able to take you on the vacation

You always begged for.

Let's start harvesting the grapes

So our wine business will thrive

I know you can't tell the difference

Between Merlot and Syrah 

But that's okay

It's easy to pretend when your heart

Is pumping lust.

What the fuck am I even talking about?

I should be writing a paper not rambling.

Have you ever wondered what goes on

When the soldier returns home?

Nope, have YOU!?

I have one too many photo frames with no pictures inside of them.