los angeles massacre

i've got a jar of dirt
took it from your folks' old house
to remind me of the days that i always missed out on
o paper bones;
don't ever let me down
one day i'll shut my eyes and wish real hard
and put a penny in quarter wish-well
get myself a quick fix cuz i'm not that damaged anyway
right?
i am insufficient.
lock my head with a billion different keys
lost the one that ever really mattered to me
and so my story goes
and so we all grow old
baby blues and beautiful browns
bright eyed and articulate
i bet the florida moon is the same as this one
and you still look no different
you are insufficient

you're a star
you're a star
you're a star
keep shining


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i've got writers block.
i hate everything i write
i can't stomach me