all my friends hate tim buckley

there's a bite in the air that clashes with my bare shoulders
wednesday 10:30; a mix of 'milk' shampoo and nicotine
cold air nose run, sinuses like abused sand paper
a cigarette looking at our 'if the world ends...' spot
red balloons and laughing and gtr ended too soon
but you know i didn't ever like triangles

so don't go changing