with my feet on the dashboard

so i'd really like to be all cool and relac chill, with my feet on the dashboard, and windows wound down and going places and i dont have to drive and i can fall asleep. but now it feels like theres been an entire toolbox thrown into the scheme of things. india next year with the boys feels too far away and the uk is even further than the eye can see. erwin's been saturnian, to say the least, and im fast losing interest. the high from the achievements of the last week is already running thin. i didnt seem to miss harith the whole time he was away but now that he's back theres that emo stack that comes along with having to say goodbye to someone im now too used to have around. all i can think of now is how much i'd pay to be with rhs in cambridge.

children, wake up.
hold your mistake up
before they turn the summer into dust.

if the children don’t grow up,
our bodies get bigger
but our hearts get torn up.

we’re just a million little god
causing rain storms,
turning every good thing to rust.
i guess we’ll just have to adjust

about cambridge and my fire station

it's all about the feeling. the sea, it's a sea of possibility. it's about doing pretend-ns, and blastin' down d streets. one would think that things would run dry in jurong but now it's learning new tricks. bizarre as it sometimes is, most other times it's about regularity and that makes it okay and maybe we'll all get past today. it's about knowing for sure now that one day next year things will be flying and i wont be the left anymore but the leaving. it's about the possibility of long hair and cold wind and motorbikes down long coast roads, and baby we all know the road is life. it's about knowing that pits lie around the corner but really if everyone was a little less hung up, we all really just get past because nobody's gonna die babe.

the city's aflood
and our love turns to rust
we're beaten and blown by the wind
trampled in dust
i'll show you a place
high on a desert plain
where the streets have no name

bizarro

yesterday i felt so old
i thought that i could die.
and i have known yesterday
and i know nothing dies.
and i have died in the same place
and i know nothing can be dead.
for in this place where people live
in boxes there is no life.
for in this place where choices lie
there is no way.

yesterday there was a red-faced old man and "two fat ladies!"
but m o r e ! no more quiet days!
more mad tripping and cagey tigers
we are rocking you down the streets.
we're askin' for it!
i! just! wanna! have! fun! as! a! boy! should! want!
so if you're leaving
theem - thakka - dynamite - theem
dammit take me with you because i too want to see
transvestites with three nipples

rhs

dinner at eight was okay, before the toast full of blames.
it was great until those old magazines got us started up again.
actually, it was probably me again.
why is it so? that i've always been the one who must go?
that i've always been the one told to flee?
when it fact, you were the one long ago,
actually, in the drifting white snow, who left me?

so put up your fists and i'll put up mine,
no running away from the scene of the crime.
god's chosen a place, somewhere near the end of the world,
somewhere near the end of our lives, but until then,
no, daddy, dont be surprised if i want to see the tears in your eyes.
then i know it had to be, long ago,
actually, in the drifting white snow,
you loved me.