When will I ever get it right? Maybe I’ll never treat you right. My eyes won’t settle anywhere, my mind is in the atmosphere. When will I ever treat you right? Oh oh, you know, I can be romantic. Oh oh, you know, I can wear nice clothes. Oh oh, you know, I can be romantic. Oh oh, you know…
Bomb the Music Industry! - Felt Just Like Vacation
In truth, December destroyed me. January crushed me. By February, I was not myself. March rolled in like beatings and rolled out like a bear hug. In April I stared out the window for a fucking month. I don’t want October. I don’t want November. I don’t want to feel those crippling blows that I can’t explain to myself, my friends or you so I soften them with hours of Nintendo.
Burn my Mona Lisa. I would like another chance to put stars in her eyes, fire pipes in the sky, and brass knuckles on her hands. She can breathe. She can see when you’re not watching. Throw away my letters. I would like another shot to put a shine in your smile, make your nights worthwhile like I’m with you when I’m not. I disappear and I reappear. I’m made of magic.
When your friends are buying starter homes with their accomplishments Drinking at a house show can feel childish and embarrassing With people glaring because despite what the advertisements said: Malt liquor doesn’t make you young.
Say the word, and I’ll put my guitar down I’ll be sad, but at least we’ll both get laid We’ll start to fight when I start to resent you, and we’ll both agree the thought was nice but I should not have stayed