You know, I've never been to Hamilton, but maybe someday I'll go.
It used to be kind of a radical town, now they keep it on the down-low
and in the postcards they sell you really can't tell it wasn't vacation, not back then.
In H-A-M-I-L-T-O-N.
And I've never seen the lights of Marfa, they were kind of out of the way.
You told me about them at a stoplight in Roswell on the way to Texas from Santa Fe. And they sit in the ground in the place they were found like some kind of alien sign. But I don't care where they come from, I just care that they shine when you're walking the razor's edge down the double dotted line.
I haven't seen the Wolves since Kevin Garnett, but I appreciate the romance of cheering on a losing team that's got little to no chance. And the loser takes all when there's nowhere to fall and down looks just like up and your lights are punched out and you're down for the count.
Well, enough is enough.
Do you remember like it was a dream how once upon a glass of wine
you said to me "I'm yours," and I said to you "You're mine?"
We were a soap opera then,
and that suited me just fine,
but then the day came on again and the night was far behind.
You know, I've never been a hard goodbye, but you've had to say plenty.
You always knew that you'd see me again but hindsight's 20-20.
Pitch-perfect, breathy, and direct without being uncomfortably so. Mewtant, a friend of mine from a past life revisited, has some serious swag. A breath of fucking fresh air. Lionel O