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george pringle - carte postale كلمات الأغنية

some days i actually pine for a sleepover and a polo
shirt again.
this year saw change.
i started dying my hair lighter.
i cut in a fringe and i started wearing drainpipes that
hugged my legs and i suppose the same problems
remained.
they just got more complicated and they curled out
further.
my problems stretched out in the sun and they sent me a
postcard to say that they hoped i was okay and “i’sn’t
buenons aires fabulous?”.
well, maybe this was bought on by a newfound ability to
sleep alone, or apathy.
i don’t know.

i think new years begin in september, well at least for
me they always have.
i’ve always been fnd of september.
spring is never a good time.
it’s a trussed up and beautiful drag queen but autumn
is real.
so in the “new year” period i changed a lot and all the
while i thought “suuuch a great tragedy i never looked
this good as a teenager”.
all the while i let a ferocity build up in me.
i took it out on myself, the shorter my skirts got and
the skinnier my legs bowed and the flatter my chest got
and all the while we were sweethearts.
i threw beautiful lines that i never knew i was even
capeable of.
i counted green pills and cigarette ends.
i stopped playing guitar and i let my fingers soften
and my nails grown for a while.
i started drinking more and keeping unusual hours.
i started playing street fighter ii, until my eyes felt
like they were going to drop out of my head and then
i’d get enraged by the fact i was never going to be
good enough to play hyper mode and blanka was always
going to be stronger than chun li.

so maybe i should enlighten you on what happens in your
absence.
this selfish existance where this intravert turns
extrovert and dons their social armour.
i became the perfect party apprentice, with a phd in
sitting on kitchen counters and drawing my cheeks in
and shooting you looks that i don’t even mean.
hips that grind to scratchy indie hits and shoes that
stick to nightclub floors.
well, you couldn’t understand why i can’t.
you’ve never been up at 4am with “the fear”.
you’ve never laid on your bedroom floor half blind and
you wouldn’t love the girl that wakes up perspiring
beer.

i cry much less these days.
i can’t help but wonder what happened to ninjas and
adventure.
my dreams are like flashes and they give me hope.
in these dreams i grew the bones of a fighter while you
were sleeping and i fought and i seduced from a
terraced house that rides a hill in this dead little
city.
cinematic mini-epics sobered by train lines and phone
lines and i forget these things.

my life’s a tangle of cables these days.
roads and train tracks are like wallpaper now.
i started taking hundreds upon hundreds of photographs,
all of which you were absent from.
a detailed scientific investigation into light
reflected on gl-ss
and i became invisible.
listening to techno and shoegaze in my room all alone.
and private parties all for myself.
slender fingers honed from msn.
an encyclopeadic knowledge of daytime television
presenters.

- george pringle

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