diary for the moon landing

wordless, girl, have you any lost desert fingerland filefolders i can flip my fingers through, walk li9ke a drapery, dowery for the moonlanding, everyone's taking big steps in the drip-sweat heat "so she's got soul" and "so she lives like there's nothing but doors and a fire int he past" and everytime they tell me any little thing i know at least a little bit of the road-dust clouded sight nightscope un-vision for f.m. radio, baby, it belongs to you.

i want to tear into your mind.

2003-08-01 | 3:49 p.m.
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