Man, Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is beautiful stuff. I feel like such an ass for being suspicious when I heard someone descibe them as "Radiohead doing country, but good." I listened to the record at least three times last night while lying in bed, the tiny earbuds filling my head up with widescreen poetry. I'm suspiciously happy of late.
Kristin gets back tonight. The wine has been selected, a nice Cab Sauv (none of that Arbor Mist shit, thank you) from Koala Creek. The menu has been planned - probably pizza; we've not devoured a couple of slices together in a week and that's forever for us. And maybe we'll get around to celebrating our five-year anniversary properly since cruel fate intervened the weekend of.
Cheer up, honey, I hope you can
There is something wrong with me
My mind is filled with silvery stars
Honey, kisses, clouds of fog
Shoulders shrugging off
Cheer up, honey, I hope you can
There is something wrong wit h me
My mind is filled with radio cures
Electronic surgical words
Picking apples for kings and queens of things I have never seen
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Cheer up, honey, I hope you can
There is something wrong with me
My mind is filled with silvery stars
Honey, kisses, clouds of fog
Picking apples for the kings and queens of things I've never seen
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Oh, distance the way of making love understandable
Oh, distance the way of making love understandable
Cheer up honey, I hope you can...
Kristin gets back tonight. The wine has been selected, a nice Cab Sauv (none of that Arbor Mist shit, thank you) from Koala Creek. The menu has been planned - probably pizza; we've not devoured a couple of slices together in a week and that's forever for us. And maybe we'll get around to celebrating our five-year anniversary properly since cruel fate intervened the weekend of.
Cheer up, honey, I hope you can
There is something wrong with me
My mind is filled with silvery stars
Honey, kisses, clouds of fog
Shoulders shrugging off
Cheer up, honey, I hope you can
There is something wrong wit h me
My mind is filled with radio cures
Electronic surgical words
Picking apples for kings and queens of things I have never seen
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Cheer up, honey, I hope you can
There is something wrong with me
My mind is filled with silvery stars
Honey, kisses, clouds of fog
Picking apples for the kings and queens of things I've never seen
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable
Oh, distance the way of making love understandable
Oh, distance the way of making love understandable
Cheer up honey, I hope you can...
