Where the fuck is the chalk?

I want to be like Simon, every little thing that I draw coming true. Not in a “Fuck, where did all these bloody solders come from? I’m out!” way; but more in a “Fuck, who knew that life could be so grand!” way. When I climb over the garden wall for a bit of a repast, I want it to be a thrilling experience.

So here I am whispering all my wishes and prayers; and in the immortal words of The Smiths, “Please, please, please, let me get what I want this time. Haven't had a dream in a long time.”