I was prettier yesterday
I hope, most of all perhaps, tomorrow’s you remembers that there once was a yesterday’s I
Just getting it done like Rocky
Sometimes the ego in me is a bastard. Putting something down and leaving it there less than perfect is like a cut in the roof of your mouth. It’s impossible to leave it alone.
Why? For write or wrong.
After all, I don’t think I’m alone when I say there is never enough time to have all the fun that you want to have, am I?