(no subject)
Jun. 8th, 2019 03:23 pmyou can't always get what i want
All the umbrellas in London were laid end to end
And they flowed down Ludgate Hill in a hydrophobic stream
A perfect paradox like when you said to me
You'd take me anywhere I wanted to go:
I can't love a taxi service
This heart is public transit
This heart is a communist
It's for everyone all at once.
All the couriers in the Square Mile turned to a straight line
And spelled out the lyrics to your favourite song
As the pigeons began to sing along, and I sighed
And you said you'd carry me, and didn't mind the burden:
But I am certain love should be crowd-surfing
A hundred hands holding a little of my weight
You can't be a hundred people I said
But it came out too late.
All the statues in London pirouetted on their plinths
And the wandering dispossessed grew back their missing limbs
As you opened up your heart and told me to come inside
But I am no taxi-taker
And I didn't hail this ride.
And all the umbrellas in London won't keep a river from your feet
And I have love but the kind that's piecemeal, discreet
As all the couriers go streaming screaming up the Strand
The statues are composing an answer to your tweet:
This heart is public transit
It's a social little tube
My loves' workers need more unions
But with more than just you.
All the umbrellas in London were laid end to end
And they flowed down Ludgate Hill in a hydrophobic stream
A perfect paradox like when you said to me
You'd take me anywhere I wanted to go:
I can't love a taxi service
This heart is public transit
This heart is a communist
It's for everyone all at once.
All the couriers in the Square Mile turned to a straight line
And spelled out the lyrics to your favourite song
As the pigeons began to sing along, and I sighed
And you said you'd carry me, and didn't mind the burden:
But I am certain love should be crowd-surfing
A hundred hands holding a little of my weight
You can't be a hundred people I said
But it came out too late.
All the statues in London pirouetted on their plinths
And the wandering dispossessed grew back their missing limbs
As you opened up your heart and told me to come inside
But I am no taxi-taker
And I didn't hail this ride.
And all the umbrellas in London won't keep a river from your feet
And I have love but the kind that's piecemeal, discreet
As all the couriers go streaming screaming up the Strand
The statues are composing an answer to your tweet:
This heart is public transit
It's a social little tube
My loves' workers need more unions
But with more than just you.