Recycle

The boss man hates Fridays
With our paychecks we will slice the dromedaries
Toast to when wars were waged like jacks games
When politics reminded us of medium cigarettes

Getting drunk on the silly hill water
Crawling on the floor with the tip toes of my knees
Reaching for the thread of you tattoo sweater

You a new city
A loosely based idea
You’re the 80’s montage to my parasite 
Ride your purple motorcycle through the countryside of our fond memories

I’m a fair weather money lender
Your thumbs will do just fine
I want nothing to do with your heart
Ow what a big spender

Thumb through my American Splendor
Parallels are trapeze acts
A circus
Ill brake the chair over the lions head and pull the net

Operator Operator
You know this is personnel
Gainesville is such a daydream to me now
I want to be the sun to your darkness
Bronze, Gold, or Miscellaneous it matters nothing to me
You know who this fucking is
I’m t tired of writing these words for you
I want live and die in that water bed