I wish I had a typewriter
or a gramaphone.
we could let the records spin.
you & me.
I'd forgot punk or indie
as far as you knew
and nothing would have a label.

I don't wanna graduate.
I let it all slip right past me
just enough to say I'm trying
you've heard it all before & more & worse.
I'm asking, please don't save me
tell me I don't need to be saved.

it was June wasn't it.
and we can't go back.
the rides before the flight
I knew I knew I knew
across the ocean I'd lose you.

there's something cross continental
about my courage
to try and tell you just how I feel.

this is swallowing Xanax and flower power
this is so lethargic it shouldn't even count
for anything other than the absolute truth.

it was June wasn't it?
I settle for winehouse and empty bottles
I wonder if I've tried enough

what words would get me there
what the **** can I say
to make you understand?

give me a shot of *** and a shot at your heart, and I'll only miss one of them.

for ***** sake