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Oh...oh, down it goes.

I'm guilty, I'm guilty, I'm guilty. And then I turned and said, "There'll be no more pain from broken hearts. And no more lovers to be torn apart. Before you throw me in your dungeon dark, your Honour, they'll be putting statues up in every park." I'm the man who murdered love. Yeah, what do you think to that? I'm the man who murdered love. Yeah, what do you think to that?
XTC, The Man Who Murdered Love, Wasp Star


I want the man who murdered love.
I want the man who gave me an ice cream cone. It melted, and killed my sweet red polka-dotted dress. I want the man who gave me kisses, the stars, and grew trees. He was a caring vendor who planted miracles on a green hill. I want the girl who smiled back at him. I want her: the girl with eyes alive, with hair as long as the tunnel to her heart, with cheeks filled with sore happiness. She broke a mirror one day -skipped away to the nearest chest and locked herself up, along with those letters, and felt pens-, and disappeared. I am still looking for her, and if she calls, tell her I love, and miss her terribly.

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Posted by martha lung on Saturday, August 19, 2006 at 4:48 AM |

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