Fuck you. And, your untouchable face.
Approximately 10 minutes ago the verdict was handed down, the sentence was announced, but the jury hasn't even gone out. I'm still deliberating.
This morning before I remembered my life is going to change in 17 days, I was making silly plans and stressing over possiblities. Now I'm so overwhelmed, I can't think about it. It's... just... mind... boggling.
Throw on some summer music, and remember the times in the back yard, swimming in a big blue pool, bug spray, bats. Just, God, turn it up loud enough to drown out every thought and every impulse, and every worry.
No phone, no answering machine, no washer, no dryer, no forks, knives, spoons, no table, no couch, no computer.
The first 30 seconds of Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm Yours makes everything all better. And when that's worn off, James Brown will work. Then Marvin Gaye.
And fuck you, if that doesn't take you up. If You Are The Sunshines Of My Life doesn't make you want to fall in love, you've got no soul.
How can so much love be inside of you?
It's just about finding someone to tolerate my singing, and the times I can't talk, and someone to point at me when the girls go Do Do Do.
Then the high dies, like any drug. The problem is you can't put Overlap on repeat if you've got it on Living In Clip. There are just times that I have to admit to myself I need. If I could just pin point what it is, I could ask for it, plan for it, look for it.
Now it's all coming down
I just want answers to questions I haven't asked yet.
I'm stumbling.
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She hasn't seen me like this ever.
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