I was lying on the grass of Sunday morning of last week, indulging in my self-defeat.
My mind was thugged, all laced and bugged, all twisted wrong and beat, a comfortable three feet deep. Now the fuzzy stare from not being there on a confusing morning week impaired my tribal lunar-speak, and of course, you can't become if you only say what you would have done, so I missed a million miles of fun.
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Comments
i don't know this song