thats what youve gotta tell yrself.

which is funny because each of us has a story to tell

and they all end in death.

but we walk around putting our hands on peoples shoulders and say oh it’ll be ok

and they sniffle and say i know, i know.

but how do we know? we’re on the same crazy freak ride theyre on.

but weirdly, it does get better.

the sun

does

come out tomorrow.

everywhere i go i hear people talking about being unemployed.

woman sitting next to me on the subway asked a guy coming home from his security man job if they were hiring

he said he didnt know

she said she was sick of not having a job.

and i know that this may be funny to you but then she farted.

the kids behind me laughed but i didnt

the whole ride she kept looking over at what i was writing in my email

it’ll be ok

i typed

and hoped she saw

Or should it be unadorned and pure?

is there anything thats pure any more? especially in rock?

only thing that was pure is long gone, and thats the slow, strumming guitar of hank sr. who allegedly sold his soul to the devil at robert johnsons crossroads.

but when you write lyrics like this, you dont need any Fat Boy, phasers, or fuzz

Hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I’m so lonesome I could cry

with that said i think every guitarist should master the theremin so anyone can bust into whole lotta love in a snap.