5 thoughts on “Wasting away again in Mckinleyville”
McKinleyville!? I can’t believe a webcomic I follow is mentioning where I live like it’s a real place.
Once I walked through the halls of a station
Someone called your name
In the streets I heard children laughing
They all sound the same
Wonder could you ever know me
Know the reason why I live?
Is there nothing you can show me
Life seems so little to give
Once I climbed up the face of a mountain
And ate the wild fruit there
Fell asleep until the moonlight woke me
And I could taste your hair
Isn’t everybody dreaming?
Then the voice I hear is real
Out of all the idle scheming
Can’t we have something to feel?
Once upon a time they used me indeed
Tomorrow never comes
I could sing the sound of your laughter
Still I don’t know your name
Must be some way to repay you
Out of all the good you gave
If a rumour should delay you
Love seems so little to say
p.s. I think you covered up Leanne’s face with a thought-bubble in a subconscious retaliation for me putting a new flag on my pole. I can live with this, but can the microscopic sea-critters of the internet accept such a burn?
I’m cool with that
It’s the folly of drawing the words before the picture. And before you know if some people are left without eyes or foreheads.
McKinleyville!? I can’t believe a webcomic I follow is mentioning where I live like it’s a real place.
Once I walked through the halls of a station
Someone called your name
In the streets I heard children laughing
They all sound the same
Wonder could you ever know me
Know the reason why I live?
Is there nothing you can show me
Life seems so little to give
Once I climbed up the face of a mountain
And ate the wild fruit there
Fell asleep until the moonlight woke me
And I could taste your hair
Isn’t everybody dreaming?
Then the voice I hear is real
Out of all the idle scheming
Can’t we have something to feel?
Once upon a time they used me indeed
Tomorrow never comes
I could sing the sound of your laughter
Still I don’t know your name
Must be some way to repay you
Out of all the good you gave
If a rumour should delay you
Love seems so little to say
p.s. I think you covered up Leanne’s face with a thought-bubble in a subconscious retaliation for me putting a new flag on my pole. I can live with this, but can the microscopic sea-critters of the internet accept such a burn?
I’m cool with that
It’s the folly of drawing the words before the picture. And before you know if some people are left without eyes or foreheads.