i left the snowstorm and the fleur-de-lis flags blowing on the cold rooftops.
i left the sad screaming trees and warm fire escapes in NYC
i left the boring rich houses with too much secrets in Maryland
we passed concrete and more concrete and even more fried chicken and now everything is quiet
the birds are all rabid and the palm trees whisper things in another language
theres thoughts and feelings but no words and all i wanna do is shoot it all away
You have to stop running, the boy from the past always said worse i never cared to hear. I never thought id be lost because i reasoned that i didnt have a destination,
I had one and quietly unconciously ignored it away now its all gone and I stand alone with the wind chimes and the grey clouds and my imaginary lizard creatures who might be a stick in the water. Nodding off on piers wondering if it really isnt all that far of a road to travel if i wanted again.
a girl who encourages "Bitch you aint dead yet!" I wonder if she was born with that frame of mind or how it came to be that way. We never think, of people, and how they are, and what situations and how they dealt with the bullshit to paint the picture of themselves we see. Stories stories another chapter and such.
I think america will make me hard like the rest of them. Maybe this was what i lacked. Too much innocent shit i preferred to dream about. The smell of pollen is really a fllowers cunt juice.
One door shuts and the whole hallway is left open to run amuck in.
Somebody send me the book "Psyche in a dress" by F.L.B. Really. id like it right now. Never read it as of yet but its the last in the series yknow. I think maybe she was here when she wrote it.
Never again to lay myself on one idea. I forgot. I forgot it all. I was up in those clouds.
Where are all the songs of tomorrow because i am very much stuck in a few hours ago.
i left the sad screaming trees and warm fire escapes in NYC
i left the boring rich houses with too much secrets in Maryland
we passed concrete and more concrete and even more fried chicken and now everything is quiet
the birds are all rabid and the palm trees whisper things in another language
theres thoughts and feelings but no words and all i wanna do is shoot it all away
You have to stop running, the boy from the past always said worse i never cared to hear. I never thought id be lost because i reasoned that i didnt have a destination,
I had one and quietly unconciously ignored it away now its all gone and I stand alone with the wind chimes and the grey clouds and my imaginary lizard creatures who might be a stick in the water. Nodding off on piers wondering if it really isnt all that far of a road to travel if i wanted again.
a girl who encourages "Bitch you aint dead yet!" I wonder if she was born with that frame of mind or how it came to be that way. We never think, of people, and how they are, and what situations and how they dealt with the bullshit to paint the picture of themselves we see. Stories stories another chapter and such.
I think america will make me hard like the rest of them. Maybe this was what i lacked. Too much innocent shit i preferred to dream about. The smell of pollen is really a fllowers cunt juice.
One door shuts and the whole hallway is left open to run amuck in.
Somebody send me the book "Psyche in a dress" by F.L.B. Really. id like it right now. Never read it as of yet but its the last in the series yknow. I think maybe she was here when she wrote it.
Never again to lay myself on one idea. I forgot. I forgot it all. I was up in those clouds.
Where are all the songs of tomorrow because i am very much stuck in a few hours ago.
VIEW 16 of 16 COMMENTS
There are dreams of innocence still roaming freely in America.
You only have to be as hard as you want to be.