There’s a girl in Iowa called Annie Automatic. She has a sad smile that mocks the cold. Annie likes the cold. She likes loud music and drugstore makeup. She tells her friends she looks at tabloids for the articles, but in truth, Annie doesn’t much care for words.
Sometimes, Annie pours soda water into bowls and leans down into them, so the bubbles kiss her eyelids.
One time Annie heard a song. She loved it so much she burned it into her head, on the inside, where the good stuff lives – her little glass unicorns and ticket stubs; her daddy’s blessings and her momma’s love.
Now she gives it to you. Keep it for a while. And pass it on.
Styled in California by French, a musician, poet and outlaw who grew up around Santa Cruz, a carnival on the beach. French has toured with several bands – most recently the modern rock band Palmerston. After nearly three years fronting Palmerston, French formed Annie Automatic. He writes in Los Angeles with an acoustic guitar.
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