the tunes work well with the words
Make me a certified member of the Lost and Never Found. I just want to wonder and wander, and smile at pretty girls under the pale moonlight. And similar clichés. I want the particulars to sort out in the wash, and I never want to worry about the details. I want to hit hard and leave mouths open in my wake as they say, “wow, there goes an original.”
I want to travel by train, and play the guitar with cowboys. Around a campfire. With coyotes howling the background. And I want someone to take the picture and put it on a pack of cigarettes sold in a third world country. But only to hipsters on vacation, not to the locals. Maybe local hipsters, if such a thing exists. I want my exit interview to be conducted in Spanish by a white person from HR, who grew up on my block in Michigan. And if she refuses, I’m going to ask for a translator.
I want to jump on a bandwagon too late. I want to make it rain. Like rain dance style, not strip club style. I want the Twins and the Vikings and the Wild to win their respective championships. I want Wolves season tickets, but I want the Blazers to win the title. I want to be a fly on the wall during the recording of a hit record. I’ll sit quietly in the back and drink whiskey from the bottle and order Chinese food for everyone. I want to be a local artist. I want be a regular at a local coffee shop. I want to take this shit abroad. I want to unite the masses, and ride my bike with no handlebars. No handlebars. No handlebars. I want to get caught on the bridge in a thunderstorm, and I want to watch her mascara run. I will offer her a tissue.
I want to find some more ice. I want the whiskey on this midnight cross country train to be a little smoother. I want to be a little more poetic. I want to say something. I want to be elected to higher office and resign after two terms. I want to lead people. Even if it’s just to the pub. I never ever want to take anything for granted. I want to give away drinks on trains to people who don’t ask for them. I want to charge spring break prices for people who do ask. I want to listen to Minneapolis hip hop in the middle of nowhere eastern Montana. And I want to watch a cowboy, in his boots, c-walk to it.
I want to take charge. I want to ride shotgun. I want to navigate. I want to paint a picture of you and sell it at the art walk downtown Los Angeles, and then use the proceeds to buy the bar a round at King Eddy’s Saloon. I want to die poor with a smile on my face. I want people to drink heavily at my wake. I just want all of us to be happy.
I want you to check out Simone Badour Photography