Saturday
- [x] Workout
- [x] CVS
- [x] Tokyo Mart
- [x] Milk
- [x] Stockings
- [x] Cork town beard butter
- [x] Nicole gift
- [x] Krazy Jane’s
- [ ] I want you to love me with the force of one thousand winds

Coloring rocks, watching kickball, and lying in the grass
I saw your glance, I looked away as you made about
Swaddled infatuation, feelings thought dead years ago
Unknown anxieties implore me, should I talk to her?
I hope that I get paired with you

Courage strikes me, your smile, your laugh, I’m young again
The others think I’m in over my head, and maybe I do too
Where did this feeling come from, from so long ago
Maybe I’m in love — I don’t know
But I’d be happy forever here, as long as I’m with you
I hope I get paired with you

Cameras are flattering until they flash
The depiction of Kings and queens until the shutter castles
Evangelical in nature what our pictures capture
Where the greens of your garden meet my pasture

I try to find my way, but only find myself as a knight with no sense of direction
Fighting for home, or for throne, the question begs itself
Where the answer is another question
Intrepid in nature,
Why do I play the game without something to wager

And slaves and peasants and king’s all the same in the end
Whilst the keep remains high and grand at the expense of what the treasury lends

Where pigeons can not land and letters bury the foundations
And there the queen remains, frivolous with men fascinated by their own incantations
In her jewelry and robes, her stallions, her fields, in a glow forged by ignorance and fascination

And here I am all the same, chasing after the same libations

If you asked me to give you the picture
I couldn’t even paint her
This girl’s got me on retainer
Her purse is full of my pastels and pens, and I don’t quite consider myself an entertainer
And every stroke of my tongue comes out as a castrated slur
Yet on my way to hers
I trample through a trail covered in burs
They are stuck on me, but I am undoubtedly stuck on her

You move I move, scandalous, something to prove
Pretending to be who is who, who is you, who is me, woah is you
And I’m new to new, but I can’t seem to fit into the groove
There is black and there is blue, and when the sky turns back in lieu
Cash turns into change, and so do you

Dead TV channels and corn puffs on floor like skinemax and taxes on the poor
Stained coffee tables and sunlight through the glass pane door
The aftermath of ****** and scores
All of us have some kind of drug in our veins and pores

That ***** outdoor patio, with the edgy tattooed girls
Where we used to turn over chairs to find pearls
The 90% would always put us into a swirl
The moonshine would always help us unfurl

Saints on high our porches rumble
Where secrets held are worse than those under the Vatican’s
But we’re as dead as the mannequins
And we’re lost to our ambitions that we humble

Like kindred souls around a fire we lost ourselves to gravity
Our mornings filled with sweet nothings, our nights with serendipity
Where we found peace and home in entropy
In the lull of a dogtown in the middle of the world