is that all there is to a fire?
I don’t trust anyone who’d want to hang around me. I’ve realised I’m paper thin, I’m almost biblical - I feel I’d fall apart in the rain.
How can you stand me freckles? Don’t you know I’m impossible? I’m so damned impressionable, like a child. I heard somewhere along the worlds longest grapevine that you perform miracles and all it costs is a song. I’d write you one, a perfect one, but I don’t believe in my words anymore and I don’t know why you would either. Forget dictionaries and thesauruses i’ve got the graffiti in train station toilets and the pull quotes off the blurbs in the inspirational aisle of Waterstones. Have you heard the one about the the sailor and the ocean? Neither have I but I heard it’s good… Well how long is a piece of string? Don’t ask me because I have no clue. Life is full of questions, That’s why I’m in need a miracle.
Maybe I need to go into the woods and drink alone, Smash the bottle on a rock when I’m done. I won’t clear up the mess, I’ll leave it there in the leaves and moss to rest and then write the first words that come to mind. That glass is for the rabbit’s paw. I’ll be a poet before I know.
I’ll Leave the quotation marks in the bag in the boot, Where I’m going they won’t mean dirt. I’ll Taste the salt in the soil and feel the breeze on my balls, I won’t shave for a month and finally relax. I’ll Speak only in verse, 4 stanzas that all rhyme. I’ll be a bestseller before I know.
I’ll Find a rock, roll it around and then set down on the ground under the largest man-made mountain I can find. Hell, I’ll live under it for all I care. I’ll Eat unseasoned, overcooked steak for every meal and dream about someone kissing me goodnight. You see I have a constant, overpowering need to fool around in the dark. Maybe I’ll move to Spain and while I’m there I’ll write you a letter everyday reminding you of how hard I find it not to blow out my brains at every small inconvenience. I’ll tell you what the warm hum of the universal emptiness feels like.
‘Suck it up! your a man not a child.’ I’ll be on Fallon before I know.
I’ll smoke reds then buy another eye patch and wear one over both of my eyes. Tell people “it’s a metaphor! don’t you get it, we’re all blind to the truth” and just pray no one asks me to explain what I mean. I’ll Sell my books and my house, Buy a van, drive it down to the water then set it alight. I’ll be famous before I know.
I don’t trust anyone who’d want to hang around me. I’ve realised I’m paper thin, I’m almost biblical - I feel I’d fall apart in the rain.
How can you stand me freckles? Don’t you know I’m impossible? I’m so damned impressionable, like a child. I heard somewhere along the worlds longest grapevine that you perform miracles and all it costs is a song. I’d write you one, a perfect one, but I don’t believe in my words anymore and I don’t know why you would either. Forget dictionaries and thesauruses i’ve got the graffiti in train station toilets and the pull quotes off the blurbs in the inspirational aisle of Waterstones. Have you heard the one about the the sailor and the ocean? Neither have I but I heard it’s good… Well how long is a piece of string? Don’t ask me because I have no clue. Life is full of questions, That’s why I’m in need a miracle.
Maybe I need to go into the woods and drink alone, Smash the bottle on a rock when I’m done. I won’t clear up the mess, I’ll leave it there in the leaves and moss to rest and then write the first words that come to mind. That glass is for the rabbit’s paw. I’ll be a poet before I know.
I’ll Leave the quotation marks in the bag in the boot, Where I’m going they won’t mean dirt. I’ll Taste the salt in the soil and feel the breeze on my balls, I won’t shave for a month and finally relax. I’ll Speak only in verse, 4 stanzas that all rhyme. I’ll be a bestseller before I know.
I’ll Find a rock, roll it around and then set down on the ground under the largest man-made mountain I can find. Hell, I’ll live under it for all I care. I’ll Eat unseasoned, overcooked steak for every meal and dream about someone kissing me goodnight. You see I have a constant, overpowering need to fool around in the dark. Maybe I’ll move to Spain and while I’m there I’ll write you a letter everyday reminding you of how hard I find it not to blow out my brains at every small inconvenience. I’ll tell you what the warm hum of the universal emptiness feels like.
‘Suck it up! your a man not a child.’ I’ll be on Fallon before I know.
I’ll smoke reds then buy another eye patch and wear one over both of my eyes. Tell people “it’s a metaphor! don’t you get it, we’re all blind to the truth” and just pray no one asks me to explain what I mean. I’ll Sell my books and my house, Buy a van, drive it down to the water then set it alight. I’ll be famous before I know.