Ben Folds kindo' mood.Don’t laugh at me when I wear a helmet hat if it’s okay for him, it’s okay for me ‘cos we got some philosophy! I love the smell of grass, and cider at Christmas sandy feet, only here. When I pick up a new book,Ben Folds kindo' mood.
I ruin the pages… (dog-eared, you see) it feels more like home that way. I want a type-writer and a Polaroid camera; they’d fit in here with my rusted trunk and crooked calendar. I bet Viv and Clark never expected their old-style glam to be so wonky! But, he did think about the army and isn’t that th
Adelaide.Morning after, hot night light, heels pound the pavement. Familiar city concrete, everyone is a victim. On the floor, on the walls, you lie –Adelaide.
in shades of grey.
Your buildings stand, tall and strong, never faltering in their beauty. Bridges, galleries –
churches! Not so ageless, but remaining in stance; so proud.
Green greens in abstract places, such a viridian place. Dirty stream to sit beside, day by day
by day. Blossom as you will, my friend –
thrive on our yo
Morning time.Sleepyhead -Morning time.
coffee’s up, radio’s on. New day; new way to wear that made-up smile.
Same ol’ lover, yawn is in the air. Pouring the milk, eyes wide shut, just like it’s an art. Giddy thoughts of previous night; drank too much again. I got this feelin’, graffiti ain’t gonna be gone the day after next.
Toss the bills aside, to flip through the tv guide. Glance at the front page –
news is empty again. Another star just burned too bright.
Grab the k
One night to speed up truth...My insomnia is caused by coffee, and I began writing to you tonight. I can’t even yawn! Work is in a few hours, but I’m listening to my Spanish friend on repeat. No way, José! I can’t wait to argue over the colour of our walls, (which will be white, by the way) and choose a linen pattern. I want to cook for you every night; I don’t even mind doing the dirty work, if you wish. And if you want to sleep in a tent sometimes, that’s fine with me too.One night to speed up truth...
It’ll be bare feet at sunset and sand between our toes. No rin
--
a thread in the web, of humanity.
Previous PageNext Page