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:
Nails: Venge!
Clothes: Envious
Jewelry: [DD] Attractive

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