eighty-one

flowers, trees
pretty blue skies
all mine, all mine

maybe i'll take my car out
for a spin
we'll ride down these placid streets
everything perfect
and the world has shadows
(we avoid)
don't speak, don't speak
stay here

and all that history shit
it's not important
because my life is so good
and nothing else matters
life is hard from heartache
bad dreams that fade with morning
and i've got big plans

survival of the luckiest