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Oliver Houston
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Tom Quad
Das Man told me would be something：the world wide open in your hands.
You gotta understand–I take the long way around sometimes.
Coasting cold breeze whistle the bike-rack, Headington late night (feels like so long ago).
Can't help but wish I was there sometimes it seems my life has already peaked, and now it's twenty-three burdened by the wait of routine, routinely worried where the worry will lead, or where it's leaving me.
Sunlit lanes, lit face is keeping me awake; bask in rays, in case the past won't give and take.
Who could forget trekking through Tom Quad?
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