sometimes I dream that the country
will fall apart, glass on the streets
from broken windows
ruinin’ the concrete
and we’ll run,
to your summer house
and live on frozen meat and acid
and we’ll follow the winding trails
sit at the broken television sets left in the woods
question whether everyone is real
cus when I was young the only friends I had
were in my imagination
like the last time we were there
and all the pictures disappeared
from anna’s camera
and we’ll heat up your mother’s bathroom
surrounded by her many mirrors
grinning in a haze of smoke and steam,
because our short lives are little more than
smoke and mirrors anyway
like the last time we were there
and all the pictures disappeared
from Anna’s Camera
it’s just a brief escape from helplessness
i wonder if it’s simply selfish
recklessly using up this old spent body
my muscles can no longer keep up with me
i could slip and fall without
turning my head about
raising my arms to brace my fall
or protect myself at all
i’m not sure that I can sustain my mind
my comfy linear sense of time
I keep finding myself drawn back to my
happy place
oh that ageless space
surrounded by perfect water
and drifting there
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