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blue
It's being whispered that guerrilla blue flowed in, under cover of mist, rolled right by the street lamps, as brazen as only blue can be.
People are nervous. We hear them murmur anxiously, and we knit our brows too, to make a show of worry. But when our eyes meet--yours, mine--we smile. Our secret delight, our secret triumph.
People are nervous. We hear them murmur anxiously, and we knit our brows too, to make a show of worry. But when our eyes meet--yours, mine--we smile. Our secret delight, our secret triumph.
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(I imagine reading a positive review must be like getting a hit of crack.)
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