All my bullshit is chemical, and with the right cocktail, it is broken to bits and filtered away Advertisements
Tie my mind to your bumper, And drag me from here to Queens, Who am I when you get there? Will you love him?
you arrange your self in a structure that you believe other people will find pleasing, this is because we find ourselves impossible to please, when we are alone
folds up nicely in your pocket
and I lose my footing as the ice melts beneath me
you look like a broken statue, and from the inside, you feel like a thorn bush
for all the problems I have, the moment I sit down in public, people love to add their own to mine