Stop the arguing, please.
I was working on the memory of the rhythm of her breathing,
When she's fast asleep.
So much sweeter than the sound,
Of people disagreeing.
Like the ghost of gasoline,
Stays clinging to your fingers
I'm haunted by the her whispers as well,
And I'm singing on my knees cause i don't have a prayer.
All along.
In the stardust motel
Wish I had thought of that.
