morning grey ignites a twisted mess of foreign shapes and sounds, i wish the ceiling was the ground. i'll send you flowers made of silent tiny pieces of the sun to help me make uo for this one... while you bring me tidal waves of love when you're alone and i can't remember what you do... to find a way to turn the signal back to heaven sounding blue and bring me safely back to you... i think. it's hard to sing it in my head and type it too, but fucking A. when the drums come throbbing in and then that first swell of feedback...
a happy day, then you pay
feel like shit the morning after