O Ventura, you called my name
Far from you life is not always sane
Coffee often at three in the morning
Things were hard but never boring
The mountains brood there
Foggy sea air
Filling my head too much
Books and El Pref lunch
A darkly storm drain
Smoky wind and brain
Why must she always fill me with pain?
Over soon and cars to fill
Voids and broken dreams
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Posted by Darren Cools at 12:36 AM
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