in the summer we spit strawberry seeds. a train screamed by and some girl stuck her straw head out and plucked a hair from your head. i imagine now the girl on the tracks with a record playing somewhere in the background. weren't we happy back then when golden wax sun gave us wings like icarus. aren't we happy now, when the train has come roaring by and the girl's hand came flying out and left a webbed pink indent on your cheek and red juice from our teeth has dried up on the tracks like blood. things are always uglier in retrospect.
a/n- i just wanted 2 say that if none of this makes any sense to u then i agree, it makes no sense to me either
