when phoebe bridgers said i want to live at the holiday inn where somebody else makes the bed we’ll watch tv while the lights on the street put all the stars to death it’s been on my mind since bowie died just checking out to hide from life and all of our problems i’m gonna solve them with you riding shotgun speeding cause fuck the cops and you you must have been looking for me sending smoke signals pelicans circling burning trash out on the beach i buried a hatchet it’s coming up lavender the future’s unwritten the past is a corridor i’m at the exit looking back through the hall you are anonymous i am a concrete wall




















