It was in Georgetown.
Sitting across from you in that coffee shop,
something about you on that November evening,
Maybe it was the tempered feelings,
But it was hot.
Had a glow like maple syrup frozen,
Some would call it brass,
some would call it golden,
all in all she was Ambrosia to Moses.
Bring us back to her first kiss,
a black pit for a fortress,
tanned flesh on her Ford lips,
can’t a-ford to loose focus.
But temptation drives her closer.
The crash is just as sudden as the kiss.
Let’s fast forward to where we are now,
We don’t exist…
remember the happy times,
we just see the venom and hiss.
The hate it fades,
but the murder victims in Montreal
Kept the t-shirts and blood stains.
Where is my friend?