It's 4:44 in the morning. The middle of June. I'm writing you now, just to see if you're reading.
Suwon is hot, I don't like where I'm living. There's security down the street all through the evening.
I hear that you're living, your little life, deep in America. You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record. Yes, and they came by with a whiff of free air. They said that I signed it away. That night that I agreed to come here.
Why did I ever come here?
Oh the last time I saw you, it was so much better. Those middling KC Royals were beating the Reds. We'd been in the parking lot since 5:15 and you went home with out saying my name.
And I was subjected, on the flight, to Paul Blart, the Mall Cop. And when it was over, I wanted to gouge out my eyes. Well, I see you there with a beer in your hand. One more cheers, not for me. Well, I see security's awake. He says I must stop.
And what can I tell you, my readers, my followers, what can I possibly say? I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you, I wish you'd stood in my way.
If you ever come by here... for Suwon or for me, well your enemy is sleeping ...but his spirit is free, yeah. and thanks, for the comments you left behind. I read them all, seriously, though I didn't reply.
And they came by with a whiff of free air. They said that I signed it away. That night that I agreed to come here.