born into a poverty of his own creation.
He worsens when he's drinking, too.
She changed the lock on her heart,
and with one look he cut a key.
He gets in anyhow, don't he?
that we're not getting any younger.
and more than that became her home,
open to anybody who wasn't feeling lucky.
And when she gave him hell
considering all the fights they fought,
all the songs he wrote her.
that we're not getting any younger. More from T. Hardy Morris