you remind me of home a broken bed with dirty sheets that creaks when i am shifting in my sleep you remind me of home in a suburban town with nothing to do patiently waiting for something new to happen.
take a bubble bath. drive my car and smoke a cigarette. feed ducks at the park. go to the spot up sequoia. take old pictures back here with me. see you.
i wish i had a car here because if i could just put my feet on the dash, maybe the world really wouldn't matter.