Jess OXOX
Dear Tim, it has been 15 months since we last corresponded.
You're looking well. Well, at least you're still standing.
I remember it was 1st & Main, the springtime sun was shining,
but you must have had a shadow on your heart.
I came to you in clothes of white to spur you into thinking
about my state of mind; my physical well-being.
My bandages were fresh and clean, they just had been replaced.
My blood was in my veins where it belonged.
But you know me, I was never one for words. I was more like a gun.
My work was quick, impossible to undo.
You thought maybe I was a dream, and dreams are brief, so I must go.
I love you, Jess OX OX OX O.
You know me, I was never one for words. I was more like a gun.
My work was quick, impossible to undo.
You thought maybe I was a dream, and dreams are brief, so I must go.
I love you, Jess OX OX OX O.
I love you, Jess OX OX OX OX OX O.