Our thing progresses I call and you come through Blow all my friendships To sit in hell with you But we’re the greatest They’ll hang us in the Louvre Down the back, but who cares? Still the Louvre.
Poems were like people. Some people you got right off the bat. Some people you just don't get - and never would get. — Benjamin Alire Saenz, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe