i wish that i had the spirit and clarity that you seem to be dangling out to me from threadbare sweaters and well-labeled suit jackets. i'm the one who speaks in lyrics, my friend, since when do you? and you say to me in the simplest of terms that you learned how to love from me, and i laugh because truly i feel clumsy, and a catastrophe, in regards to love. you knew that already, didn't you? but it is never all that simple, is it?
"oh, hold on to me.
i'm gonna get you out
i'm gonna set you free.
to a place that i've heard on the radio.
never sleeps.
i'll get a job in a bar,
you could be a waitress and serve cheap cigars
to fat mustachio men in suits,
you'll look cute.
fuck what they say
fuck it if they talk
it really dont matter.
we're going to new york."
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