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Description
my girl. you are sweating orange ginger ale. my girl. how about you forget about your controversy so you can cramp my style hard and specific, like gay pornography. shit, i already bought a ticket, but if it doesn't trouble us, then why should we put forth any energy at all.
my house. you are on fire and my dreams rest their ears against your belly, before you let go my house, may you holler and belch in till you are nothing but a fucking ghost, my beautiful house.
We all want to know why there's a percent sign on our keyboard and why the hell pennies are relevant, shit, we've all tried to buy a pack of smokes with a sack of nothin but coppers and it isn't a crime, not even a felony. It's not a sense of humor, and it's not the sound we make before our hearts and bodies climax into enchanting delirium as a result of indecent stimulation.
just ignore me, my house and my girl. just let me talk, i won't be stopping anytime soon... i swear i won't. roaches will interrupt you, wolves will set you on your way and your god will violate the only couch you have by urinating on your back with a shovel strapped hard in his/her pelvic muscles.
my girl, i cannot hear you anymore, you've grown older than the hilly sunrise that can only collapse into itself. I'm hurting more and more often.

so before i leave a hole in his gloopy rot i'll fuck the honors in my tux.

Description
my girl. you are sweating orange ginger ale. my girl. how about you forget about your controversy so you can cramp my style hard and specific, like gay pornography. shit, i already bought a ticket, but if it doesn't trouble us, then why should we put forth any energy at all.
my house. you are on fire and my dreams rest their ears against your belly, before you let go my house, may you holler and belch in till you are nothing but a fucking ghost, my beautiful house.
We all want to know why there's a percent sign on our keyboard and why the hell pennies are relevant, shit, we've all tried to buy a pack of smokes with a sack of nothin but coppers and it isn't a crime, not even a felony. It's not a sense of humor, and it's not the sound we make before our hearts and bodies climax into enchanting delirium as a result of indecent stimulation.
just ignore me, my house and my girl. just let me talk, i won't be stopping anytime soon... i swear i won't. roaches will interrupt you, wolves will set you on your way and your god will violate the only couch you have by urinating on your back with a shovel strapped hard in his/her pelvic muscles.
my girl, i cannot hear you anymore, you've grown older than the hilly sunrise that can only collapse into itself. I'm hurting more and more often.

so before i leave a hole in his gloopy rot i'll fuck the honors in my tux.