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Chorus: I remember less, & you remember me, I’m little to your eyes, see me to be you. You’ll nod off, & tug my armpit hair, noddin’ in my arms as I’m hugging your glares.

Verse: With silk & fleece, marble on the floor takes your feet, as you try to stand, truth is your past, when you’re a better man, truth is your past, when you’re better man.

According to some psychological studies I haven’t even been an adult for 5 years yet, now at the age of 27. I agree with this even though there are some tasks we find ourselves maturely doing before the matured time we are supposed to do them.

I keep thinking about age, again and again, I understand the grumpiness of lets say someone who’s 65 or even older. It’s a rational response to someone who is my age who once thought that just because they had to do grown up shit at an early teen age that makes them an adult for more than 10 years when they arrive to their mid-twenties.

Being an adult means being infatuated with nostalgia even with a bad upbringing. Being young means being obsessed with your future. Generation after generation. What I remember first about life is less than what you my will remember first.

Chorus: I remember less, & you remember me, I’m little to your eyes, see me to be you. You’ll nod off, & tug my armpit hair, noddin’ in my arms as I’m hugging your glares.

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from with a moko jumbie & a persona of three., released February 19, 2019

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A. Ripdae la Wise Escobar St Thomas, Virgin Islands

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