It’s been a year since I typed some lines, probably cuz it’s stuff like this, I want to get laid and i want to get ****** but instead all I feel is sick Kedgeree thats tumbled dried from 38 minutes of bad Elvis hips, while legs pop like rockets my eyes sink in my sockets saliva swells in my cheeks as I drift in disappointment swimming in icy air to catch my confidence lost at sea but its too far gone, so i just stare at a laptops glare thinking about my spots my unstyled bramble of hair my polo, too garish? MY SPACK BRAIN! too confident in thinking I looked smart? as i wish for another heart one thing sticks in my mind a girl, or was it a boy, looking like Johnny Rotten, in Westwood striped dungarees and flames of hair flashes of the Public Image, King Krule and all that in my headphones. Words that are all in my head as my stomach is sick oh yeah, they played the killers I like them now my head is bleak like Mike Skinner I wish I’d chosen earlier to have my dinner another music reference lost on you but stuck in my mind in bed as I picture a red head oh my.