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yeah one more i wrote a long time ago.
untitled - sonic youth
the tape runs a little still
but perfectly calm
the beat is only perfected
by itself
someone is scratching the surface
and they're born to tap their foot
moving these things
called lips
telling what they're gonna do
here's the past
on a silver platter
here's the future
in this black coffee mug
off the streets now
where's the synonym book
and what's a better word for...
saying these things
(pen all over our hands now)
today
and tomorrow
oh everyday
then, take it to the station
do they like what we've done
Saturday
wait till Saturday
and they'll all be
throwing it back to us
the singer
with their scratching
our past, future
all that black coffee
comes to a stop
you've stirred it enough
enough, k
shit. let's just play
the damn show.
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