Walk the Line
Everyone knows where the sun must go down but yet in our easterly dash we swim to the west without lifebelts and drown like Johnny, the man they called Cash. Walk the line while wearing black, fall each time you climb, doing, never to come back, Folsom Prison time. The train which is a-comin' is around the bend, he said, our rolling stock is life, show biz for us while nearly dead. Poem: "Walk the Line" by Gershon Hepner Links: Hair: Vanity Hair Makeup: Booty's Beauty Nails: Venge! Clothes: Envious Jewelry: [DD] Attractive