Warm Whiskey.

The wind makes the trees dance,

and my hair frizzy.

I wonder if you ever miss me.

The wind makes the trees dance,

and my hair frizzy,

why didn’t you ever kiss me?

The wind makes the trees dance,

and my hair frizzy,

you still burn like warm whiskey.

The wind makes the trees dance,

and my hair frizzy,

it’s all starting to hit me.

–S.