I know what kind of blow it is,
I know it’s speed.
But I need the speed.
When I’m sailing toward the rocks,
I want the radio on.
Because it smells like death on the bus.
The 38 bus.

Last night: photographed in the wild.
I don’t just pull it out for everybody.
I’m the worst with indecision,
but it only lasts a second.
If it’s time to put on the Bangles,
we’ll put on the Bangles. You’re right.
I hate this fucking song.