Das Tohuwabohu

part of me wants to be seven and careless.
part of me wants to be back in your bed.
part of me wants to be forty and settled.
part of me wants to be dead.

I guess that it’s typical, to cling to memories you’ll never get back again,
And to sort through old photographs of a summer long ago.
Or a friend you used to know.
And there below his frozen face,
Where you wrote the name and that ancient date,

And you can’t believe he’s really gone. and all that’s left is a fucking song.

—Happy Birthday to Me- Bright Eyes