Relax the scalp and let your hair fall out on the carpet

25 Oct

Beck – Farewell Ride

In solitude, or in the
locked eyes of a desperate song they
take me there, I’m
biking a hot day and a lonesome
run down boathouse rough road home
jut sand bank tell of fortune old as time
clock rocking the knotted rocker: grave
She sees me who I am and I came: the
future. Only memory scenes and I
am the sucker side of some cheap con
for I am not upon a bicycle nor
deep into a summer afternoon.
I see old days and I swoon
I live them a memory at each core
and choke seeds of cyanide that come
with each one. Ah, well, someday we’ll all die.

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