it's time for friday, for loosening up the straps and strings. for shaving off the algae of workplace bullshit. sitting here watching clock hands drag their feet, waiting for the 3 o'clock bell to ring and release me.

he's my perfect kind of guy you know. deeply troubled and sings beautifully. even red looks blue. guitar takes you on a trip better than hashish. he knows all those awkward corners 'round mid-teen weird street. makes you want to scoop him safe for singing loser cool.