Late nights I look for him on the U5.
Oh, where have you gone, my Sicilian Arctic Monkey man?
The white dog comes to Captain Soda after dark.
He licks my palm.
His owners smoke a hooka pipe.
His name is Tony, they say.
September 02, 2007
lilan patri
I'm a thirtysomething gal who's abandoned her fat cat, excellent career, and cramped studio in New York to brave the wilds of Berlin, all by her lonesome.
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