We come to them, ready to die. They pound this kind of crap into our heads, day and night. It gets so bad, we almost make it real. Some of us make it after all...we come home to mama, in a box. Smart thing to do, eh? For sure the old highschool sweetheart will be thinking of us for the rest of her life.
not
Tags:
Comment
© 2024 Created by waldopaper. Powered by
You need to be a member of Reality Based Community to add comments!
Join Reality Based Community