Orange, bleu, jaune Paul. Yellowblue.

I try to practice what I would say if you asked me what I was thinking
but my eyes go lazy and I just say, "You know."
In case you don't though,
here it all is.
You're so lucky that when I say I want to glue a bunch of kittens to your body
and feed you crackers from a sandwich bag
that I don't want you as a pet.
Free reign, totally liberal
and adorable.
Since I don't believe in clocks,
just dehydration,
I think I'm going to live at least six hundred more years
and when you halt from boredom,
I'd unquestionably interrogate your pals
and see if I could build you a pyramid.
See, 'cause I got I.M Pei in a cage
and he's got a little wheel and a chewing stick,
and at night he whispers in French,
"juste comment construire un haut en bas la pyramide de verre."
 It'll be better than Paris,
and just like a stained glass window.

j/w, o.k.

This is always the month I remember most.
I can't throw those in a dumpster.
I can delete the songs on iTunes,
and cut you out of the photos,
but there's the fucking radio
and your facebook friends.
You always had more facebook friends.
Am I still special?
What do you do with the songs?
Do they match your new in a relationship?
Or do they die in the park too?
Maybe you think of them as a mistake to learn from.
How long's this going to last?
('cause I think she's a cunt).
But trust me,
I'm worse, promise.
I'd be shocked and jealous if she surpasses my transgressions.
w/e, j/w. k? ttyl.