weaving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth
“he wants to be a golf star, he practices every day out there in the yard”
we move the blind slightly and take a peak, hit the ball, run, collect the ball, hit the ball, run, collect the ball, “I need to study for my maths”
he is a thief, the best thief “the projector from the library, under the lounge, have a look”
we play nintendo on the big screen set it up against the broken walls marked with a thousand drunken disputes
knock knock
yells and laughter and screaming children
where the fuck are we
we’re nowhere, didn’t you know?
