We had an idea in the attic of your house after your parents were asleep, passing a cigarette and a stolen bottle of whiskey between us next to an open window. You said you couldn't hear a thing anymore, see anything, so I said we need to change, we need to be somewhere new, let's pack all our shit into leather suitcases, all the books we want to read, all the clothes we want to wear, I'm packing up my three leather suitcases (two filled with books) and scraping the money from the bottom of my drawers for a place on an ugly freight ship around the world to get to Paris to find the lives we're supposed to live. Living in a metal box, on the sea, no solid land, breathing fresh, few people, less noise, more noise. Grinning like my only confidence, you tell me of all the fur you're going to wear.
[Have One On Me]