Track Name: hit me, Harold! - Poignant Au Revoirs, Any Afternoon
While you work on your skill at outrageous deception, I'll make sure to send you letters explaining how I'd handle a similar situation. (Fucking poorly, you might have guessed) indulge in surface-value importance, provided on your own, who would've known it backfires pretty badly? But you haven't missed much. No one knows what the hell they're doing, or where the hell they're going, or why the hell they're worried - but they're damn well worried. Counterproductive pick-me-ups - reminders of where you left off - frequent scathing symbols. I pick out every single one. Who will notice if and when we're finally done? I'm the worst one to ask advice from. How can I help at all if your intentions are staying at home, while mine reside in places I don't know? If you know what you want, what are you waiting on, mon ami?
Track Name: hit me, Harold! - Three Priceless Motels
Wake up breathing easily, easily bad enough for a diagnosis from the know-it-all he'd been the whole four hours. Then, get up and shower down your car of the memories you brought up from your stomach. It made sense it should go like this. Fit the scene, rewrote the script. All of this didn't have to happen. We could have sprawled out on the carpet. Left, instead, to break our backs - your promise, no safe bet. A solid, single statement to brand the night and what was next to take place. Follow faceless romantic encounters with "I don't give a fuck who your friend is" and "beat it". Constantly making friends at every turn, your mind is working then left to burn. Losing games, playful and trivial all the same. The car door unlocked and you unconscious, sleeping stranded, the blame is on us. Don't say we went down without a fight. Couldn't catch a break if we tried tonight.