By the winds of change and the weeds of sex
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
this has been running around in my head for the past two weeks, again and again, and I pity those in the rooms next to me and on the train who hear it on repeat. and so that adds us up to a month, a little more than this friday. i'm settling on such an unsettling topic and listening to yann tiersen in the background is probably not helping. switch to yeah yeah yeahs.
if he cared about me, or wanted anything, would he have contacted me by now?
