Don’t laugh to much, don’t cry to much, get inside, forget getting high. I remember that time I couldn’t think straight and we set off. Flat tire and go again. Back and forth, I got grey skies on my back and bright blue in my eyes, with wheat and wind to the left and smooth roads under me. Get up get going lose the feeling. Am I safe? Will I be safe? Where did my guards go, where’s my shields, what is it about you that pulls things outta me? Its probably because the best times have been with people that I know I have a way out with. I hate putting a fucking period at the end of my sentences cause endings more often than not suck. I don’t want something completely satisfying, I want a little mystery.
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