8:30 in the morning. 8:30 am, and I have been alive for more than an hour already, and I have eaten from the street (again), rode a bike with her in the backseat, said goodbye, listened to my stomach grumble with too much of the street food lately. Rotten tofu yesterday, the good type of rotten tofu very unlike his kiss in dreams. It's a strange type of warning, I say. It's a strange type of warning, you and I. Hooo... and I was going to write, but, Damien Rice's 《９》is absolutely stunning.
Leave me out with the waste This is not what I do It's the wrong kind of place To be thinking of you It's the wrong time For somebody new It's a small crime And I've got no excuse
Is that alright with you? Give my gun away when it's loaded that alright with you? If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it Is that alright with you? Give my gun away when it's loaded Is that alright with you? with you.
Leave me out with the waste This is not what I do It's the wrong kind of place To be cheating on you It's the wrong time but she's pulling me through It's a small crime And I've got no excuse
Is that alright with you? Give my gun away when it's loaded Is that alright with you? If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it Is that alright with you? Give my gun away when it's loaded Is that alright Is that alright with you?
Is that alright? Is that alright? Is that alright with you? Is that alright? Is that alright? Is that alright with you?
No...