Wanderlust

Like Amundsen and Scott
I open one of my closet's doors courageously
only to discover it is still there
an Everest of laundry to be conquered
I stare in awe, terrorized

A roll of quarters inside my fist
detergent hooligan
with a cup of Tide I will conquer this monster

Goldfrapp, Miss Kittin and the hacker
come through my headphones for the first load
but at the third load I'm in total wanderlust
staring through the small round window
at the colors, going round and round
my thoughts, in random chaos
synching with the washer
like an alpha male iPod
reloading Tom Jones
via usb 2.0
am I going crazy?
This is the nemesis of the white soft foam
that comes in the Pacific waves
and drowns my head in sultry highs
One thing I know for sure
my imagination in mutation
is far more beautiful
than your scratched record mentality
But, should I change?
would you love me more if i was taller?
or perhaps if i was rich...
should I stop smoking for you?
or maybe lose weight?
sometimes I think you would change my name if you could

If you were perfect, then maybe I would
on a second thought ...fuck that
cause it wouldn't be me
I think optometrist is an erotic word
the best university is an airplane ticket
and karma makes me try to be humble
I don't think you are what you have
cause if you lose what you have you still exist
furthermore
I think you are what you do
when you love, when you write, when you work
when you eat, when you shit

And when you hate, when you interrogate
when you criticize and demand explanations
when you judge and ask me to justify myself
eat less french fries or wear a mask
or put on a different shirt
that is when I rejoice in dancing to Bowie
doing laundry or doing nothing
simply cause you're not there