komegumi

I had this dream we were in the resistance Somewhere in France fighting traitors and fascists You were my mistress, yes you were a woman But I knew it was you by the shape of your mouth And you called me maurice And I had a small moustache And played Clarinet in a decadent band.... Until we Hid in the buhses We shot from the bushes Made love in the bushes Like there was no tomorrow But in my real life I'm a cocktail waitress Dodging men's hands instead of bullets And you're a base player in a band that got a deal Dealing with assholes instead of explosives Still we're grateful to be alive Together fighting side by side As We

"Sat in the cafe by the cracker factory You were practicing a magic trick And my thoughts got rude, as you talked and chewed On the last of your pick and mix Said your mistaken if your thinking that I haven't been caught cold before As you bit into your strawberry lace And then a flip in your attention in the form of a gobstopper Is all you have left and it was going to waste Your past-times, consisted of the strange And twisted and deranged And I love that little game you had called Crying lightning And how you like to aggravate the ice-cream man on rainy afternoons The next time that I caught my own reflection It was on it's w

I was sitting at a Macdonald's, looking at the people walking by (we're at a mall, you see) Here, a lady with tight leggings; wide plastic-framed shades below her fried hair. Drawing attenton from her not too slim legs. There, an 'uncle' with his cell phone strapped to his belt, walking with swaying arms and a not impressive hunch. Students in their day-glow green uniforms; loud bags and high-pitched self-conciousness. ...whomever is fine come and kill my boredom... Grandma - old lady in wheelchair, parked together with the shopping carts; cellophane bags of groceries; seat like sentries beside yellow formica tables, as the