Today sucks, but so does tomorrow so I'm going to pretend like itisn't happening. I'm thinking about dalmations and fur coats and grass and lemonade and bubbles and brendan and the way I say and too much. I don't like thinking, it only promotes confusion and/or nostalgia. Oh, you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet and hold the earth in place each time a curtain opens sunlight pours in a lifetime melts away and we share a name on some picturesque grave Just keep thinking of the golden sunlight.