Porthmadog, Dog

Cardiff I got nothing for ya, just that vague valley diaspora, I'll never win with drinks or poetry. See you were always Wales to me, you and maybe Aber (but we don't talk about that ever)

Out on the coast I'd swear that time is broken, that the scenery crept up while we were sleeping. (but we're not sleeping) Where the bleakest and most beautiful relate. (Both several hours and centuries apart) I take drugs to get to that pace, and I've never looked that pretty

Woah. Woah.

Cadi cut her hair and it's all I can think about. Cadi cut her hair.

I've been staying on the caravan fringes. Where the green gives to sandy beaches. I take drugs and keep missing the light sweetches. Off season, middle importance, morally compromised crew. Say we'll come back. But we never do.

And damn the man but god I'll take his money. Receipt the fuck out of his taxis. (So drive slowly) Or take the train and watch the window like a movie, 40 stops till the right country. The while film stops and it's your city. (Both several hours and centuries apart) And you walk out like "real life could never look that pretty"

Woah. Get some of those woahs

This view hasn't changed for a thousand years, constrained by coastline. The year I was changed by a single view. I was coasting on contrite.

Cadi cut her hair and it's all I can think about, a trim to keep the fringe out. Cadi cut her hair and it's all I can think about. It wasn't even special, just a trim to keep the fringe out. Cadi cut her hair and it's all I can think about now. Cadi cut her hair and it's all I can think about and I am scared to sleep cos I don't wanna dream about how I can't cope with the things I really care about now.

Woah. So what this song needs is some of those woahs.

This view hasn't changed for a thousand years, constrained by coastline. This year I was changed by a single view. I was coasting on contrite.

Cadi cut her hair.