Eight o'clock, Monday night and I'm waitin'
To finally talk to a girl, a little cooler than meHer name is Lola, she's a rocker with a nose ring
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My right hand is far from the left, And i know not what either are doing. One Grasps at a dream. Clawing frantically to a wish of something amazing. The other rests upon tangibility. In my hand and in my control. My hands are seperated. And i am in the middle.