Delicate has a place.
Right behind regret.
Might be nice to plan ahead.
And avoid thin ice.
Delicate has a place.
Right behind regret.
Might be nice to plan ahead.
And avoid thin ice.
“So arrogant
Your worst is the best
It’s so easy
To make a fucked-up mistake
And walk away
Just like it was
Or move away
Miles between us
If i ever forget
It was never so perfect
Such a boring story told
You make me feel so old
But confident
So arrogant
Your worst is the best
It’s so easy
To make a fucked-up mistake
And walk away
Just like it was
Or move away
Miles between us”
I like songs that sound like a murderer stalking their prey.
Slink. Growl. Wet streets. Blonde hair.
This song has enough danger in it to choke a serial killer.
Let’s just ice this road and lose control all winter long…
Fuck you John Denver was a genius.
I remember listening to this song over and over again in a tiny apartment in a small town overrun with cockroaches that the building management slyly called “Yeast Beatles” and over the course of multiple malt liquors and an entire summer made scars that to this day still pop out in photographs.
That my friends, is love.
Water trips me out.
There’s times when I’ve been hypnotized by a stream, watching these little leaves, or twigs float past. Or on a fishing boat in the middle of a lake, seeing these reeds and weeds standing near the shoreline.
Or the weird foam that forms from bacteria outbreaks in summer. Looks like green cappuccino foam.
These moments have been happening forever.
And this terrifies me.
I’m so tired that my face is hanging like damp sheets on a worn clothesline.
Dusty eyes.
Swollen fingers sausage type.
Scalp stitched together with dust and itches.
Lets just hop in our parents car and drive around all night and fuck the dance.