It is late in the evening. Past midnight, for sure. The hunger I feel keeps pulling at my stomach...small little tugs that remind me of the need. Food. Hmmm.
I need a smoke is what I need. It has been hours. I won't scrape the ashtray...pull the boots on boy, make a run. You know the kind, da kine... It will guide me wrecklessley to the all-nite bodega...
Oh shit, wait...I am not in Brooklyn anymore. Did I say Bodega? Hmmm.
Boot laced and keys in hand, to my favorite all night cigarette shop.
It really doesn't matter if I get a smoke or not, eh? What matters is that I keep plodding towards this goal I have... It is to bring you music.
Many hats. Some fit, some don't. Still, the ones that fit, fit sooo good. You will see. This music will put hair on your eyeballs as a fan once told me. I like that, be careful shaving, dear.
Buddha Pie love you, baby.
I need a smoke is what I need. It has been hours. I won't scrape the ashtray...pull the boots on boy, make a run. You know the kind, da kine... It will guide me wrecklessley to the all-nite bodega...
Oh shit, wait...I am not in Brooklyn anymore. Did I say Bodega? Hmmm.
Boot laced and keys in hand, to my favorite all night cigarette shop.
It really doesn't matter if I get a smoke or not, eh? What matters is that I keep plodding towards this goal I have... It is to bring you music.
Many hats. Some fit, some don't. Still, the ones that fit, fit sooo good. You will see. This music will put hair on your eyeballs as a fan once told me. I like that, be careful shaving, dear.
Buddha Pie love you, baby.
No comments:
Post a Comment