Francis: Paaaarty! Ethan: What? Francis: Spring Breaks! Ethan: From what? You don’t DO anything… Francis: Snax! Naps! Ethan: Isn’t that what you do everyday? Francis: Yeah,but we do it harder.
Simon: We have here, the sad poet, in his natural habitat. Francis: Lost! The wordy words! The alphabits! Ethan: Guys, I’m literally, right here… Simon: uh hey dad, so it’s almost natural poetry month. Ethan: National. Simon: BananaWrimo! Ethan: Oh god…that’s novel month and it’s in November. Francis: You better find your wordy words. Simon: A poem a day! All Month! Francis: Or you can paws a poem on stagez! Or memories one. Ethan: Oh god….I need a drink.
Don’t prepare your anxieties Spring it on them The shot of bourbon The meal The comedy The satire Live your life Dance Make out In the kitchen Loosen Breathe You will live And we all will die Create If you will Create Poetry memory Create Or don’t Don’t even record it Just do Just be In the quietest way Whatever way And manner You feel free -E
Francis: Hey, hey, hey, Wake up, did you hear the winds? Ethan: What? Get your paw off my nose. Francis: what if the powers go out? Ethan: They won’t. Francis: What if we run out of snax? Ethan: we won’t. Francis: what if it’s aliens? Ethan: it’s not. Francis: aren’t you scared? Ethan: whatever will be will be. Francis: what about tomorrows? Ethan: the future is not ours to see. Francis: …. Francis: will you sing to me? Ethan: No.
We ran through Every midnight pain We were down Where There is no survivors No one knows What will And will not come Maybe it’s fate Maybe it’s just How the fires burn But babe Good god babe No one could ever say We didn’t walk these roads We didn’t carry the load We didn’t fight against Our destruction And hey there Sister Can you remember The early morning The smell of winter Over this town And hey there Babe I can remember The smell of your perfume Your head on my shoulder Eyes so bright And even the rain Doesn’t bother To fight What no one knows …. And We ran these roads We took the poison We took the chances Some of us left But someone always comes back And we pick up Right where we left off Both feet on the ground Keeping rough hands Dreaming About what’s never been – Down Where the midnight fire is … The whiskey is smoother And the women are stronger And they kiss with a fire We wake up with the morning Building a dream In the heart of this town….
Simon: Hey dad! Thanks for doing a good job at job! You’re a great hunter! Best buds for life! Francis: your profession is a joke and you disappoint me. Now, hit me with a snax.