wait, johnny marr is in fucking modest mouse?

mayday mayday. there has been a fire in the engine room. failure lights are up everywhere.
me and you just like always.
lit like leading actors. bright lights hitting your cheekbones in an otherwise darkened room.
this is disaster.
you smoke that last one down until it burns your fingers.
there is a penny spinning the table and twenty dollars broken like everything else in here.
basement apartments feel like funeral homes sometimes.
took the train just like the old days.
my old days that is. the good old days.
the stops are of comfort to me as they count me down.
when it flips from red to purple i know im getting close.
ran home from the train today.
on streets that knew my name long before anyone else ever would.
my shoes pound on them the same. sweating out a hoody in august just like i would have 10 years ago and 10 years before that.
scary.
i am anonymous to the cars as i run back to the house i grew up in, cutting through the same yards i have cut through for almost 20 years- slowing only when i see the house a block before mine, that signifies my victory lap.
i run up the stairs and throw myself on the bed.
i can only think of before this began and after it ends.
i cant ever get my head around right now.
"red red wine" is playing on the radio in my sisters car.
i saw a good band tonight and thought of good friends-
i only wish i would let my head go to these places more.
im getting sick of saying im sorry.
"i hate you, but have a good night."