This may be a letter from a melancholy thundercloud, it maybe be a beach party bonfire turned cold, it may be a nap. It may ask you for your hand stepping onto the curb, or into a bi-plane, it may wish you well as it goes off to a boring old war. This song may arrive too late, too tired, jacket ripped, to a date long wilted and blown over. It may leave a garbled message to come home to, late-night leftovers and a TV on mute. It may go on telling itself the same things, fooling itself, fine. It may do and be all these things, but it must be important, an end and not a means, because it is enough, I'm well-supped beside this sad beast, the two of us, backs against the bricks, knees to our chests with the last one of one too many. [Pre-order]
Posted by Dan at December 19, 2007 2:06 AM