Untitled Lyric # 1
by Jonathan Earl Fashbaugh
She was a knock-kneed woman
Who always had her hands in her thighs
She was a high-strung woman
Her eyes never met with mine
She was a brown-haired woman
Occasionally blonde, and I grew
Fond of that woman..
...as our laundry went a spinning, spinning on...
Amazing one day, we actually spoke
She asked me for a cigarette
I said, "I'm sorry, I don't smoke"
She shrugged and turned
Not her loss, it was mine
I saw the game and offered her some gum
She smiled, it was just in time
And now a year has passed
And our evenings fade along
And now our laundry's done en mass
Our days fly by, but our happiness is spinning, spinning on...