tyrants

dont know what this is but alright

i think life's got me a little bit down in the dumps
and damn straight i'm well aware that my luck needs changing – thinking of excuses for why my ex didn't call and why it all's gone and started falling

'cause i'm getting tired of sleeping through the cursing, and i'm getting tired of the disappearing adrenaline rushes; i'm getting desperate for a quiet-loud life. the one that's like heady polaroid films and postcard perfect sunday morning walks through the hills. just away from here, away from all this - my knees slipping through the air until it stops making sense and i'm surging towards my temporarily-pipe dreams

— so i'm thinking i should get out of here. run to a place where i can meet someone like you in one of those pubs - the kind that doesn't close early with the oily bar food. the kind that's got the sweet n sultry tang of alcohol bleedin into my lungs, and the taste of fish and chips on your tongue.
i'm thinking of picking out my prettiest dress and hopping on a plane to nowhere and everywhere in my sweater and jeans. bike to a cottage in some far off shire and live off coffee and butter. i'm thinking of practicing my math counting swaying street-lamps when i walk home from the clubs at 3 am, heels in one hand, your arm in the other
thinking of practicing my sonnets in the bathroom mirror for when i finally grow up and tell you i love you, and searching for the science in the electricity that sparks between my lungs when you look at me

let's just postpone it, tell them life's got us