One million tiny little space ships launching from my arms, it looked like firework smoke. I would sit there with my arms out in front of a skinny mirrior and my arms smoking noticing how old I was getting, the grey hairs and eye wrinkles and every scar I had ever had a death by a thousand cuts
Your emotion was all over me back then, you would call and leave your sent on trees and finger motions, the moon and grass smell… I would hold my cell and look at the live tiles flicker back and forth for answers.
A million miles away baby and I am making money
One hour, two hour, three hours, numbers in our bank… war all the time
His picture dancing on my desktop, you smile smiling back at me, taking pills and running with the wine…. Chewing time away
A drum beat I was learning, rhythmic and confused screaming not to lose.
We were forgetting more and more, and spelling was getting harder and hard, our handwriting was turning childish. Soon we would forget to make fires and to shoot bullets from fire arms
Soon we would forget morning and night…
Back in front of the mirrior and all the it was all escaping more and more, one million tiny little space ships, one million tiny little rockets self ejecting, releasing, escaping, jumping ship, abandoning hope looking for a tomorrow.
I am making money baby… call me and I will call you back, I promise.