| Taylor Swift - White Horse |
[Oct. 28th, 2008|09:42 pm] |
Say you're sorry
That face of an angel
Comes out just when you need it to
As I paced back and forth all this time
'Cos I honestly believed in you
Holding on
Days drag on
Stupid girl
I should've known, I should've known
I'm not a princess
This ain't a fairy tale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet
Lead her up the stairwell
This ain't Hollywood
This is a small town
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now it's too late for you and your white horse to come around
Baby I was naive
Got lost in your eyes
And never really had a chance
I had so many dreams
About you and me
Happy endings
Now I know
I'm not a princess
This ain't a fairy tale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet
Lead her up the stairwell
This ain't Hollywood
This is a small town
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now it's too late for you and your white horse to come around
And there you are on your knees
Begging for forgiveness
Begging for me
Just like I always wanted but I'm so sorry
'Cos I'm not your princess
This ain't a fairytale
I'm gonna find someone someday who might actually treat me well
This is a big world
That was a small town
There in my rearview mirror disappearing now
And its too late for you and your white horse
Now its too late for you and your white horse
To catch me now
Try and catch me now
It's too late to catch me now |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 25th, 2007|04:34 am] |
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Honey, when your ass is hanging half out of your jeans, it stops being sexy and starts just being nasty. |
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| pet, sumire reminds me a lot of you |
[Apr. 8th, 2007|10:42 pm] |
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Sumire was a hopeless romantic, a bit set in her ways - innocent of the ways of the world, to put a nice spin on it. Start her talking and she'd go on nonstop, but if she was with someone she didn't get along with - most people in the world, in other words - she barely opened her mouth. She smoked too much, and you could count on her to lose her ticket every time she took the train. She'd get so engrossed in her thoughts at times she'd forget to eat, and she was as thin as one of those war orphans in an old Italian film - like a stick with eyes. I'd love to show you a photo of her but I don't have any. She hated having her photograph taken - no desire to leave behind for posterity a Portrait of the Artist as a Young (Wo)Man. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 27th, 2006|10:35 am] |
"How much do you love me?" Midori asked.
"Enough to melt all the tigers in the world to butter," I said. |
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