in the morning, through the window shade

Isn't it quite easy to think we've got it all wrong? Maybe the centre of our lives isn't the centre at all, but actually the stuffing of the empty places something else leaves; something better. Maybe the important things aren't important at all. And we spend hours, and days, and months worrying about them.

Maybe it will all go away if we stop for a moment and watch a plastic bag floating in the wind.

I remember, at Michael's house
in the living room, when you kissed my neck
and I almost touched your blouse
-Sufjan Stevens' Casimir Pulasky Day

Do we?

Do we really have anything to say?

Everyday make a fine loaf of bread, and after work just before sunset you hang down to the city park; there you're alone with the burbs in the dark. And I've seen other people do that too, but they're older than your twenty-two; they lost hope and soon they'll be gone, they'll just vanish with the setting sun. But I know, yes I know, they're flying within you again, but I won't let them get you, 'cause you're my only friend. You're my only friend.

When I said I wanted to be your dog, I wasn't coming on to you, I just wanted to lick your face; lick those raindrops from the rainy days. You can take me for a walk in the park, I'll be chasing every single lark, I'll be burying all the skeleton bones, peeing on every cold black stone. But I know, yes I know, they're flying within you again, but I won't let them eat you 'cause you're my only friend. My friend; my only friend. You're my friend...

So he said, "would it be alright
If we just sat and talked for a little while
If, in exchange for your time
I gave you this smile"

So she said, "that's okay
As long as you can make a promise not to break
My little heart or leave me all alone
In the summer"