Don't Be Cruel
Lips curl into smiles the hand reaches around no feeling of time it's beading up on the window pushing out room for pain allowance to feel that tear and burn through dim afternoons lost in the confusion so we better race home vanilla cokes and warrior tournaments choking on lost words remembering traded breathes we have borrowed too many glances to turn back
Autor(es): Elvis A. Presley, Otis Blackwell
