Daytime Europa Stuff

Carved out by the clouds in your guts
In Jokerman font
Season of witch
Year of mickey mouse
I cuddled up with a thought
In the image of god
The kind that you fuck
But we just talked

Last glance to feel at home

Hopeless with quarters to lend
Like sort of a friend
Or probably should've been
Margaret or something
They laughed right into my mouth
And silenced their phone
That chance was sewn
But I heard they're gone now

Last glance to feel at home