Sunday, October 04, 2009
Ordinary People
I want magic. Not like Harry Potter Nimbus3000 kind of magic. But the we look into each other's eyes and something connects and sparks and rainbows and the smell of shampoo and the sun on our faces sand between our toes strawberries on our lips five colours in our hair kind of magic.
I also want to be a jazz pianist. And a singer. And look good in a pink bikini.
We were born fighters. We fight to stay alive, to win girlfriends and boyfriends, to stay popular, to stay invisible, to be the next President of the United States of America. And most honourable of all, we fight for Love. We'd fight, and die, for Love. We strum sad tunes on our imaginary guitars, and pluck the sorry strings of our souls. Killing me softly with his song.... killing me softly... with his song... with his song... We lie, we apologize, we fight and break up, kiss and make up. Because we're just ordinary people. We don't know which way to go. Maybe we should take it slow. SIGH, peanut in the sea theory.
tried to hunch; 5:16 AM