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2008
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January
(17)
- Was Crying For Release Then It Was Gone
- Before I Knew I Was Up To My Neck, The Last Toe Le...
- It's Your Hands, Your Heart, Your Lip
- I Don't Know Why
- And The Screeching Bluejays Seem, To Form Her Name...
- Why Do You Have To Go And Make Things So Complicated
- In The Way You're Walking To Me, From The Timbers,...
- They Mean Not As Much To Me, As A Melting Flake Of...
- It Is Our Light, Not Our Darkness
- Building A Dream
- They Can Tell Something Is Wrong
- If The Day Will Want To Take Me
- Sunday Pulls It's Children From Their Piles Of Fal...
- Cafeteria Morning
- It Wasn't Me Who Was Looking At You, Through Foggy...
- And Bump My Head Against The Windshield, Trying To...
- Just As If To Tell Her Man That She Can't Either
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January
(17)
2 comments:
the one looking through the farmhouse door is creepy as heck. if only the house number was like "1408"
or maybe stephen king's next thriller will be "5200"
ive noticed and appreciate that when we hang out you put a lot of pictures of me up. but i mean i feel kind of like a douche with just me. you need you and madeline up there too.
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