Actual Garbage.

fionaappleimdaddysweater:

to which shepherd’s field did which angels descend?
or is blessedness revealed to those of us who best pretend?
some counterfeit ideas form ideas all their own
I watched them spread for years to my unsuspecting bones
and the nights my heart was tired you sang your saccharine song
but when your mouth was quiet was the sweetest sound of all

“soon our ransomed souls will leave this age behind, for streets of solid gold,”

I hear it all the time

on a West Virginia road,

I did just as I was told.