Fortune's w
In this brutal t
Nothing changes the slow grind a
Fancy l
And everyone’s hap
Happy to strike
Fortune's wh
In this brutal t
Nothing changes the cold light
Fancy l
And everyone’s h
A snow
You’re doing into the light of the m
It’s June and yo
Yes, y
Yes, y
I think it’s y
How the arithmetic of this guitar melts your heart is beyond me
And when I say beyond me, I mean beyond me
Love ya, I barely know you, it goes to show
Who really knows what love is?
The branches, the breeze, the roiling seas
None of it seems worth mentioning
And I’m in the process of fig
Even if it’s
A sc
Ash, a river called tras
And speaking of l
You t
You thread the needle, then the needle's dry
Go off like a hydrogen bomb
It
Says the cubist judge from cubist jail
The s
Parrot weather.
I traded the moonlight for the morning dew
I know
You come
You pay good money for a million dollar v
Flipping the pages of Chatelaine
The rude empiricism of every troubled loser
Quote, unquote, unquote
A moment
A moment alone please
A moment alone please
With this, with this
With this rhapsody
With this rhapsody
Vital information from where I’m standing
Low-born Madonna
With their typewriters in the rain
Clacking their misfortune, speech, speech
A figure of light’s trapped inside it
How’s it France? Where’d you go?
And while we’re on the subject of psychotic passwords
Honing in on nothing
everybody wants her
Oh ****, I feel like a discovery someone once saw
On a clear day
Dump him