Now he's back home doing nine to five, living a gray flannel life. But when he turns off to sleep, memories keep: more, more, more...

S C R A T C H M E
Scratch me again
Scratch me
To leave your trail in my skin

So sniff my neck
Bite it or my shoulder
Turn me red or purple
Turn me on

You know what you cause in me
and you really seem to like it
Do you feel the way I do
when our fingertips get in touch?

Sweet

I ' M G E T T I N G so stupid, so old fashioned, but I don't care at all 'cuz you held my hand and then I just didn't want to be anywhere else in the world.

I T W A S N ' T for me. I'm not supposed to make anything become real. If I was, I would have understood what is that thing you're talking about. But I didn't get it. So, it's talking about someone else. I don't have to complain - I know I'm not the only one, and I did ask you to keep things going like this. But I don't know, maybe I wish I was, like that thing you scream for every week.
Nevermind.

Couple of Things to Forget

I L O V E people who produce with pleasure. Not in a mean of work, but in a manner of pleasure and fun, only. They're lovely. Those silly smiles, those bright eyes, as if everything was so simple and natural. They just seem so natural doing the stuff they do. As if there wasn't anything else. Just the music, the cigarette, the beer. These kindda so-everyday-things get so sophisticated and admirable upon their hands, that seem to touch so soft and subtle! And they get there forever, doing their stuff, having fun and being so true to themselves and the other's. Sometimes I feel like them. I felt it so real last saturday night. But it was just a dream over.
I know, I know. They may have jobs to survive. They may have accounts to pay and lots of things to be worried about. Just like me and you. I guess they do. And I'm gonna be this one next twenty treeth. I'm gonna be all I wanna be. I don't have to care for you anymore. I'm glad I'm free and this is such a cruel thing to say. May be painful to read. That's why I don't want you to read it. I'm just not lying this time.
Actually, maybe I'm not ready to breath alone yet, and that's why it's being so easy to deal with. I've wrote this language because this is the language they use to sing - and also I do. I can go wherever I want because my phone will not ring anymore. I know I'll miss it. But let me enjoy what's still here, left after you. Maybe I've liked the way you shave your hair and I'm sure it's because of your smile. We're gonna be great and paceful. Hope we be fine.

I miss you.
Miss you so bad.