Filter-Tipped Cigarettes.
Let’s go out for a drive,
make sure were still alive,
in the city streets,
to love’s warm beat…
Filter-tipped cigarettes,
and a few regrets,
yesterday, blown away,
by the wind,
like a child, like a child…
Autumn leaves a yellow-brown,
come tumbling down,
swirling round,
in the wind,
like a clown, like a clown…
Let’s go out for a drink,
as the red sun sinks,
in purple skies,
in dark-brown eyes…
JP Brown – 17/04/2008.
