I wanted to ask whether you liked being found in
Back street alleys and empty beer bottles
But you were never conscious enough when I saw you
So I just went home and drank whisky and said a prayer
Hoping you’d get some decent sleep

I know you live in that crumbling house with those strange twins
Because your real home doesn’t hold much of a family anymore
I understand
You give me the sweetest, saddest vibe
So much so that when I touch you I don’t want to let go

I know I’m a cliché
You told me to never make you into a poem
You said you didn’t want to live forever through words
But I’m afraid I’ve written a novels’ worth about you

You wear a halo of dead dandelions
And t-shirts that are now far too big for you
You need to eat
You need to live

Go to Germany and drink beer
And take long train journeys in the sunshine
Soak up all the warmth you can find
Wear your sunglasses, smoke your cigarettes and take everything you can.