This is a song called "New Age"...

Let’s run away to cali and live by anti and big tanky where there’s bright white concrete and the freeway humming to Alaska beneath an endless succession of flat blues skies, like a handful of old quarters with the faces worn off, and on the street are skaters in stained sweatshirts and dinky little foodstands where chubby mexican women sell tacos and corn and fried cake dough on a stick. We’ll get a place near the ocean but never go on the beach. At least not where anyone can see us…

We’ll buy metal blinds to put over the windows and a secondhand tv that we’ll keep in a closet on a cart with wheels.

Video cameras, not cable.

Vegetables, not meat.

(and lots and lots of candy)

iTunes and weed…

I’ll be yr dog and u can be mine.

It will be Independence Day, over and over, with sparklers, not flags.

We’ll be best friends and lovers and I’ll never have to pretend I’m something I’m not and neither will you.

No comments: