Good Morning, I Of The Mourning
I am Machina & you are the Machine of God. Or vice versa. Did I mean Vagina & Shakespeare? Virtue adversa. Bed mourning of the good night. You know me, your Xero. I hold a degree!
The more I evolve, the more I stay the same, turning over the same mourning stuff, you, driving the same hearse, you, shaken by deep sympathy, not you, pathetic me!
I was hard, I was reckless, I was hopeless, I was alone, racing in and out of all the roadrace fun, throughout the night carrera of my pointless life with distant lights aiming at happiness and the moon and the stars. But I never reached the dawn. Hot, I kept racing and chasing voluptuous women causing me further cold and sorrow as I felt alone until out of the blue, I heard your soft voice on the radio. It just blew me away, sending shivers down my spine. I wanted that, and nothing more for the rest of my upside down life, hearing your delicate sound, gearing my sculpted tool to my only goal, your sanctuary to overturn my car inside out. I wanted to be with the magical person it belonged to, that sweetest, most enchanting voice, my bliss melody, my gem tune on the radio. You were so soothing to me, you were my saccharine bedtime lullaby. You were my radio. It had a beautiful name, it had a perfect body, it had a perfect soul. And it wanted to listen to me, and it wanted to be heard, and it wanted to be tuned, it desired me, it wanted my sculpted tool, my herd, it was you. It was you, your love speech pattern that caught my ear, the higher case calligraphy, my biggest fear, that I would fall, in between your red lines. And you were instantly, absolutely irreversibly my favorite song I had never known before. You became my twin flame, my immortal, my soulmate radio giving me lots of love when I lacked it, when I craved it, when I needed it, just to breathe, just to live, just to love, my vicious circle to drive you in, just to believe. I was no longer alone. You played softly on my bowed, isolated soul, you put together all the pieces of my fragmented, lonely heart, making it brand new. And, suddenly, shockingly. I was not alone. Yet I was still reckless. I was still hopeless, even speeding up like demented to reach you beyond the radio. To have you only for myself, you were like no other, you were my everything else, you were my everybody else to milkshake in the sweltering Spear Drive, nightingale time. But instead of effin' stepping on the gas to accelerate my Milky Way fate, I hit the Orion Nebula brakes, only to get more, more of you, so much more of you, instead of me, because I flippin' stupid realized how fast I was going nowhere, how much I had been missing you, how close to me you really were, holding me tight, making love to me behind the wheel, with God taking control, how far and to what deranged lengths I had gone, all for you, my blender, so many speeds, just to reach you, just to have your virtuous circle driven all across my hotel heart, just to keep you my Sunday halo, to a certain degree, I told you I held a degree. With my black clothes worn as a mournful expression of grief, bald & bold, with a shabby guitar, not sitting on the gra$$, forevermore in your open arms. I simply realized how much I had always loved you shut, what I had always wanted to do … the unstuck … just to be with you forever radio being true … so into you, I freakin' love you writhing in my fifty shades of road rage and spleen pointed at the dawn through the dusk giving my tires spikes no matter the engine wants more, more of your raw passion, beyond the finish line. I frickin' love you my radioed Smashing Pumpkin, PS!
Radio play my favorite song
Radio, radio
Radio I'm alone
Radio
Radio please don't go
Radio
I peer through curtains on empty streets
Behind a wall of caller ID
No one's out there
To hear if I care
About the troubles in the air
As I of the mourning now come
Pick up where my thoughts left off
'Cause I'm home to die on my own
As my radio plays my favorite song
Radio, radio
Radio, don't you know
Radio, radio
Radio, I'm alone
I've blown the dust off my guitars
In the attic with the stars
I read your letters to feel better
My tears upon the faded ink
As I of the mourning now come
Pick up where my thoughts left off
'Cause I'm home to die on my own
As my radio plays my favorite song
Radio, radio
Radio, I'm alone
Radio, radio
Radio, please don't go
I sit in the dark light
To wait for ghost night
To bring the past to life
To make a toast to life
'Cause I have survived
What is it you want?
What is it you want to change?
What is it you want?
What is it you want to change?
What is it you want to change?
Radio, radio, radio, radio
Radio, radio, radio, radio
Radio, radio, radio, radio
What is it you want?
What is it you want to change?
What is it you want?
What is it you want to change?
What is it you want to change?
… invoking the most prosaic garage out there, where we can eat our Cottage Cheese Fries we love so much in peace, a resting place after a good ride, having the old-fashioned style or diction of prose, lacking poetic beauty, not too preoccupied by unromantic modern day-to-day concerns, overcoming the rush hour, the traffic jam!
Who wants Blood Orange marmalade anyway?
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