OcherEloquence

Maybe it was written on the stone walls of the Canyon, maybe in the snow on the Himalayas or on some passing meteor, never to be seen again, but kismat, baby, made it written on those eyes of yours, so crossed, only hoping for another hand to reach down and touch, waiting for fate to come tumbling down your porch and knockin' on that rickety door. Oh, you, baby were so lost, and you didn't even know it, didn't see the signs, the turn back or wrong-ways, or smell the sweet chloroform of fear, but that wrong turn on one-way street, did it in for you, left you in the dust, biting for another chance at a life you'll always want to forg