I am looking at just boiled potatoes. I can share a porch with an old man and fantasize about his hands on my neck. We can do many things with our breath. Such as syncopate or synchronize. I think you can guess which one is better. This persons eyes begins to close. This person sleeps. It is romance. A new life comes easily after this, a growl.
Labels: heartworn highways, outlaw country movement
