Don't Fall In Love With A Drummer Or Why Do You Think They Call It Dope?
There's no way of controlling up in the air semi-circles revolving. I want out, no noe behing me, in a arace that blinds me. kicked in the crotch but trust that defies me I want out look inside with this sandpaper. oh the embedding of hatred and anger. I want out. This has all been so unreal, just thinking could describe how I feel on my tip toes and I see so much that looks so good but hard to touch, cold beer in my mouth and tears in my eyes. 1,000,000 cigarette butts lying by my side running on empty. for sake of shallow fumes that keep me locked in time inside my room now I'm left alone in this. Setting caffience records at the Waffle House