I Was Born In 1970

At Every Wedding Someone Stays Home.

He's Very Nice. He's Something I Replied. She Considered This Zipping Her Purse Shut. Then She Said Well Everyone Is. Everyone Is Something. For Some Reason That Stuck With Me Simple And Yet Not Every Since She'd Said It. It Was Like A Puzzle As Well Two Vague Words With One Clear One Between Them.

Just Because Someone's Pretty, Doesn't Mean She's Decent.

Was It Really This Easy, Once You Escaped, To Just Not Care?

There Were Endless Ways To Spend Your Days, I Knew That, None Of Them Right Or Wrong. But Given The Chance For A Real Do-over, Another Way Around, Who Would Say No?