Nevada

Relying on this heart, grabbing hold of a pack of cigarettes half full and a suitcase with the following contents:

Comic books, clothing, a toothbrush, a psp, my ipod charger, and a magazine to show my friends in the other end of the globe that I miss so much.

And we'll go on adventures, and we'll have fun, and we'll drink our livers away.

Or at least they will, I can't anymore.

I'll play the guitar, i'll laugh a little.

But that's all good.

Part of the plan.

Relying on this heart, grabbing hold of a pack of cigarettes half empty and some car keys.

I'll tell you I love you baby, and that i'm going to work. But i'm really not.

The engines will roar somewhere else, and before you can get your shoes on to get to school i'll be in your front lawn (sorry for running over the fence, i'm a little deprived of sleep).

And we'll go around the desert and watch the stars and if it gets a little cold cuz the sun went to sleep i'll just hug you and keep you warm and cute.

It's a little silly, it's a little cheesy. But it's alright, I love you so that's how I get.

I've confessed to mental priests and gone to churches with a liver full of alcohol, lungs full of cigarette smoke and Nevada highway sand, in my mind i'm settling for the basics but I keep my head up cuz the basics are the best things on earth. And if the small things are making me happy and i'm making everyone I love happy, then i've nothing to complain about. Perfections a little far, but only a couple plane tickets away.