224 / No. 71 / No. VII
I wasn’t really sure what to do for No. VII of the Last Cafe. Should they have had their own playlist, separate from Victoria’s? And if so—what would it even contain? So, here’s Victoria’s playlist in the hope that one day we can find her deep inside of the shell that Warden is. Victoria’s playlist’s main genres were indie, bit of bubblegrunge, bit of weirdcore. I also threw in some songs I knew she’d like if only because they’d remind her of some sitcoms she liked.
-D.H.
Every day, it's a brand new episode
Every day, I guess we'll see just how far it goes
Every day, it seems like no one sees and no one knows
Every day, I kinda wanna cancel the show
I'm really, really sorry, I think I was just relieved
To see that Michael Scarn got his confidence back
Yeah, Michael, the movie is amazing
It's like, one of the best movies I've ever seen in my life
Dayman (a-a-ah...)
Fighter of the Nightman (a-a-ah...)
Champion of the sun (a-a-ah...)
You're a master of karate and friendship
For everyone
Stare at the grain through the glass until you can't even see
It's what you're doing
For wreck or ruin
Autumn leaves, something calling me
My younger self, are you proud of me?
…
And I can see that it’s not meant to be
My older self, have you forgiven me?
I always thought I'd have more friends
Or at least know I'm liked by them
But they don't call me all that much and I'm too bummed to hit them up
I never thought I'd leave this place
The city that I thought was made for me and what I wanted
But what I wanted isn't what I've got
Welcome to my planet
I don't understand it
But it feels a lot like magic
This unending expansion
I'm a fan of supernovas
And making out on sofas
With you
Foreign bodies take their toll on mine
Eat away at what's in- what's in- inside
Digging in deep, borrowing me
Making their beds, stealing my sleep
Foreign bodies take their toll on mine
I don't have the guts to spill them out
I wanna be perfect
Supermodel life, white picket fence house
I wanna be worth it, the girl that you dream about
I wanna be normal, live, try, work, die, it's so cyclical
To be mortal seems like such a constant struggle
This bizarre unfolding of my wings was quite a trip (Trip, trip, trip)
All the pretty colors in the sky began to ripple, drip and stipple like a Lichtenstein
Pimples on my mind
Hey, what's poppin' people? The apocalypse is nigh
