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touch of painted curls
shoes and sweets 
20th-Oct-2004 01:36 am
"These shoelaces are special," with a smile. And special with a short bus is so close to pixie dust. A group of young wizards argue over the spelling of magic. A taste of Wednesday, before it's gone, the witching hours stalk a fearful day, whisper these leaves. Shoes with eyes and war paint and a name. I'm no fool; I'll take all the magic I can get. And pay for it somehow, says a man without debt. A look hopes they're good for walking. It's a razor's edge, and I like it never too sure. You can spare some change, friend, and don't step on my shoes. They're on fire, and a bit feral... they bite, I explain. It's understood I won't defend them, beneath us both, come on. Walk with me, let's not stay here.

"She looked good enough to eat.
(And I mean eat.)
She was a tall thin girl.
She looked like a tall thin girl.
She said, "Whose is this carry-out?''
My face turned chilli red.
Well, I don't know about carrying out,
but you can carry me off to bed.
(And I mean bed.)
She was a tall thin girl.
She moved like a tall thin girl.

Well, can I fetch for it?
Well, maybe I can stretch for it?
Well, am I up for it? Or do I have to go down for it?"

~Like A Tall Thin Girl, Jethro Tull
20th-Oct-2004 05:48 am (UTC)

mmm. teethy pyro shoes, shoes with attitude.

20th-Oct-2004 03:13 pm (UTC)
20th-Oct-2004 05:43 pm (UTC)
*hugs!* :)
20th-Oct-2004 05:52 am (UTC)
Almost bought pyro shoes once.

So misread that as "They're on fire, and I bite ferally"... must go to sleep.

(still amused by the cuteness of it all...)
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