Airports lines...I wish it was summertime.
But it's Sunday night.
And flight five-five-seven's arrived.
She tells me she's filled buildings with history on 22nd Street...she's
not invisible.
My head aches.
Echo park turns to silver lake.
Where Millie's diner is closed today.
I like the taste of chocolate cake.
I close my eyes and I masterbate.
I close the door because I'm afraid he'll see me.
I'm bored.
She thinks of big blue whales while she's biting her fingernails.
She writes plays I read paperbacks.
They've just begun 3D picnics, electric sun.
I don't care where you're coming from.
He's up there on the 8th floor and he's falling from the speakers and his head
has smashed to the ground.
And everytime you leave me call to love you I gotta go just watch me drown.
And to somedays dry.
We're going to Ransburg.
It's hotter than hell there.
We're invisible, and we're bullet-proof.
We're invisible, and we're bullet-proof.
