The girl in the ditch
And her old world is spinning 'round
The eyes in her head
Are only used to detect.
The girl is on a bench
Her old world is circling around
Sweetly as a dream
To look at her down.
The girl out of town
Her old world behind her now
Sour like bad cream
Rough like cheap stones
Empty like her heart
And all those before her.
About Me
- Leila Rousseau
- Constant complainer, effervescent explainer, road rager, mostly moody, joke laugher, make believer, neverender, air breather and happy if you allow me. This is the incomplete scrapbook of Leila Rousseau's modernly artistic scrapings. Nothing is clear and nothing is really here. We can't all be inspired, and we can't all be interested. Be humble to knowledge, as it will always be greater and more fierce than ego and explanation. Everything here is my own, but I wonder whose I am. So I could pass on the credit, when I might make someone giggle, a little.
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