robot talk. bleepity bloop.
philadelphia on my mind
Our picture is your bookmark
That Christmas when I got the polaroid camera
And Im making a face in hopes that it wont look like me
And my sweater is itchy, my hair is bored
The fan is on high and in your face, just the way you like it
And that boring book that you had hoped would change your life
is sleeping, open on your chest.
And I could never imagine anyone loving me like this
To hold me in the palm of their hand and pretend that boring books were
worthy enough entertainment for someone like them
Someone like nobody else
While I type away at this blue screen-this new fangled sunrise