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“Thistle & Weeds” — Mumford & Sons “Savior Complex” — Phoebe Bridgers
The fight I was in this afternoon was with some asshole who didn’t like Lucy’s science project on the alternatives to fossil fuels, so she doesn’t admonish me for the fact that I showed up tonight bloodied and bruised. They called her stupid. I broke their jaw.
“A library is a place of worship,” he told me at one point, and I often wondered if that was why we didn’t go to church. If my parents found religion within the pages of these bound masterpieces.
I would have crawled on hands and knees to my death for Lucy Wolfe. Now she doesn’t even want to see me.
My teeth grind together, and a shot of adrenaline pumps through my limbs. I want to stalk over there and drag him out with me. But that’ll just irritate Lucy even more, and knowing her, she’d fall further into his arms just to spite me. Instead, I walk outside, snatching a cigarette from someone hunched in a corner, and flick it into the brush at the building’s base. It catches instantly, an explosion of bright orange flames consuming the grass and crawling quickly up the wall. A few people inside notice immediately and scatter. It only takes minutes for the door to become mostly unusable,
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“This is awfully forward of someone I’ve yet to decide if I’ve forgiven or not,” I tell him, cocking an eyebrow. He sighs. “The ten grand for the shelter wasn’t enough?” “My dad once changed all the furniture in his house and office to match my mom’s hair color. And he bought her a whole shelter.” Spinning around, I slide my palms up his chest, wiping away the water droplets painting them. “Your contribution was noted and appreciated but only a start.”
“You start calling me Daddy, I’m going to ensure you make me one.”
