You're like Coney Island: Working-class fun; Pretty run-down in the long run. Beautiful ashtray full of cigarette butts. Lipstick traces on cold cuts.
On our way down falling stars collide. Nothing to show no more and nothing to hide. You gave me a lift; it was a lonely ride. Now I'm born-again Christian
With rough guide.
Thrift-store wedding dresses, no more second-guesses Nothing new, or borrowed, or beaten-blue. Vending machine rings. Bold Michael Bolton sings "How am I suppose to live without you?"
Two wrongs seldom makes it right but constant struggle keeps you warm at night. You are not perfect, and I'm less so But please say "Yes" and lets give it a go.
Thrift-store wedding dresses, no more second-guesses Nothing new, or borrowed, or beaten-blue. Vending machine rings Bold Michael Bolton sings "How am I suppose to live without you?"