I got the jacket for you.
It's in the trunk of my car.
Your clothes are dead.
Winter has won.
Where you are.
You can have the gloves, too.
I will never wear them.
If I need gloves, I will buy new.
Or steal off of decaying hobos.
Play me a love song.
Finish the book covers.
Call Jeff and tell him hi.
I can't hide here much longer.
New York is haunting my dreams.
I crack my wrists.
They make a lot of sounds.
Satisfying and saddening.
Meet me in the middle and we will make things.