

Equal OpportunityWhat ever happened to the love in her eyes The promises she's made And the ones who gave their livesEqual Opportunity
As if she didn't care Looking to another man With open arms And forgetting the ones who made her who she was She forgot all their names
But a new wave has come And she gives all her attention to the so-called less fortunate To the men who give her empty boxes And no matter what she does They'll never get better with all she gives
They call it being friendly I call it becoming a whore Where she sells herself for free To only the


Coffee ShopI lean low over my coffe cup, letting the steam slightly fog the lenses of my glasses as I idly stir in more cream and sugar with a tiny, disposable wooden stick. I glance quickly left and right around the cafe, surveying my placid surroundings. The only other people up at this hour are college kids with laptops and ten-dollar espressos. The ambience of soft jazz music fills the air, some old crooner wailng away about loves long past to the sympathetically whining saxophone. The little bell above the door jingles as another too-cool college kid rushes in from the cold and shakes the snowflakes from his overcoat. I sit up to turn a page in myCoffee Shop
--
...needs more Cow Bell...
and DA welcomes you.
--
+_bCreative_+
--
+_bCreative_+
Previous PageNext Page