Friday, March 20, 2009

We Are Stranglers

A sunday afternoon escape, as follows: 
Golden brown texture like sun
Lays me down with my mind she runs
Throughout the night
No need to fight
Never a frown with golden brown
Every time just like the last
On her ship tied to the mast
To distant lands
Takes both my hands
Never a frown with golden brown
Golden brown finer temptress
Through the ages she's heading west
From far away
Stays for a day
Never a frown with golden brown