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Bag full of candy
Garage in the desert
Illegal tunes
You almost gave up on you

Head full of fuck them
Concussion, still the glue
Contraband thoughts
You think I’d give up on you?

I do it. You do it. We do it differently.

I said don’t kick the beat kit.
For an hour. He’s not there. Please pretend.
It’s gonna happen either way
and I know we can spin this as a win.

A fool on the rocks,
in Phoenix at night,
and the one with the dentist
in the desert that other time.

What we jive through
because the same page is unstoppable.

Eyes full of distant.
Phone calls with the sunrise.
Half baked and blue.
You think I’d give up on you?

Souls full of magic.
Live Art solos we knew.
Series or Round?
Laughing, ‘giving up on you?’

Hey man. Another chemical bath with you.
Tomorrow is a different day, what are we gonna do?
The same page is unstoppable.
We saw it in each other.

It’s why we were in the garage.

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