NOTE TO SELF / words by Chris Walla

Residence, cheap wine — the valency pulls from side to side, to a residence, that’s you, you’re in your car.

The motorcrash was mine: It was an accident, but at least I’ve learned my lines. You’re on the books, those dirty looks. I thought you knew that you could save yourself.

Save yourself for the argument. Hold your fire as your last defense. Don’t turn the dial until the picture bends, until the picture’s bent.

Continually you find inventive ways to screw up what seemed to be just fine. You’re on the books, those dirty looks. I thought you knew that you could save yourself.