I had a friend who changed his name but couldn’t change himself. Never quite figured out how to do with what life had dealt. He put a needle in his arm to calm his handsome hell. who would have imagined it? Could’ve worked out so well. Now he's a shape that moves like echoes through my empty room. And there’s a voice that speaks like someone’s right behind me. I turned around and found exactly what you would expect. Clothes I left on my floor. The papers piled on my desk. But where the ink is where the cause effect what’s meant by it the story is incomplete. The pictures’ left unfinished. So I am writing my own ending. I’ll let my pen bleed black or blue. And I will color in the meaning. It will be gold and green and true. And I’ll learn to love my new discovered proof. I’ll be grateful for this day. I will be grateful for each day to come.
Stuff I'm Into Right Meow. Conservative Dad Love, Cathy Radiohead Bob Dylan