you're my teenage wasteland, you're my joan of arc. tattoos covering track marks. a lie. a kiss in a park at dark. a mannequin; some smooth plastic skin like a tree and its bark. hold my hand. hold me. hold your liquor. hold it in. hold in this hit. and lets both cringe at a beginning that is really an end.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment