Fresco

Dude, write on the bloody pants
make out with your friends
something's going to happen

burning holes in the sky
stealing candy till she cries
your girlfriend's not going to heaven

drinking down the tavern
where's my car, where's my ride
holding onto a lantern

painting a string of songs
singing a poem of pictures
laying on my side

it's cold, we're burning lots
plotting, scheming, screaming
learning how to crawl