In my hast i tripped and fell, into that unholy smell. First my hand the my face, in my mouth i do taste. I curse the thing thay left it there, with...
There she stands coffee in hand, out for fag if not found. Out the back puffing away,rain or shire, no matter the day. Tells us stories about her cat...
Hair in bun and tie jeans, makes sure her bun is seen. she comes from birmmingham every day, morning chunky we all say. cheeks on face always flushed...