When you wrote those first little letters
Speaking the words inked on my mind
Those innocent kisses, like cherries in summer
Almost to quick to forget us
You revved that silver bullet straight to the heart
You were fighting the war in your mind
But I was your battleground
You'll deny and say it wasn't real
But that's just the way I feel
Now I'm standing in the pouring rain
Flowers caught up in hair as dark as mine
I hear that engine gun, shot to the heavens
I know Little Bastard has done his run
Jimmy had his fun
So why don't I feel free
Cause you're fucking crazy
"You won't understand" was the only words to me
He said them he was stating a fact
To himself or so it seemed
I still have those letters, those inky plains
Deep into his abyss, kept myself from being saved
Cause I love to love you, I'm still trying
But you're so far out and I'm still dying
You'll deny and say it wasn't real
But that's just the way I feel
Now I'm standing in the pouring rain
Flowers caught up in hair as long as mine
I hear that engine gun, shot to the heavens
I know Little Bastard has done his run
Jimmy had his fun
So why don't I feel free
Cause you're fucking crazy
I should've seen it when you
Wrote your number on that cigarette
You had just put out
Don't you understand to know everything
But experience nothing
But that's just the way I feel
I've had my fun
And I feel so free
Cause I'm fucking crazy
YOU ARE READING
Beat Poetry
PoetryModern beat poetry, old school Kerouac, classic Lana Del Rey. If Lana Del Rey's music had an affair with Jack Kerouac's work their love child would be my poetry, set against the pop culture of America, the high of Cubano, the Lolita age where the gl...
