let this jacky danny shot
be the phrase of melancholy trips
theres a peculiar sadness in the way it feels cold on the inside when its hot
still breathing in the smoke that lingers on your lips
roll up the stardust and play the tune on your fingertips
flip shit, keep it, love it, throw it away and ditch it, take it back, put it to bed and kiss it.
the meaning is spread out in the thin lines between what was and wasn’t said
but your absence fills up more and more of the other side of the bed.
gosh the blankets are warm
the alarm bells ring and outside’s a wet and weathered storm.
the water underneath yet another bridge,
spills out of my mouth as i say too much again, shit.
gosh she was beautiful,
her eyes opened like books and drew you in to her voice and her good looks.
she had light and i stole it like the moon from the sun,
i pretend like i had my own but honestly
i had none.
walk by the city lights twinkle in the night sky
stumble down the beaten path to find another trip and fly high,
criss cross down across the scrap paper land,
better sort shit out again, for your twenty second second chance.
tic tac toe gamble on tomorrow and smoke
tumble to the ground and choke
cough, spluttered, awoke
another strange suburban sentiment,
till you played thief to someone else’s spare parts
but gained another, darker, work of art.
two steps backward one step to the right
running through the darkness and finding light through the process of default
its mostly just my own fault.
the earth would cool down without the steam from my brain that billows
as i lie here awake, talking sweet nothings to my pillow.