Three thousand miles north east I left all my friends at the morning bus stop shaking their heads. "what kind of life you dream of? you're allergic to love." Yes i know but i must say in my own defense It's been undeniably dear to me, i don't know why When every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters I knew the worthless dregs we are, The selfless, loving saints we are, The melting, sliding dice we've always been. The Shins "Know Your Onion!"
