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not the passenger
and somewhere alfie smiles
I used to have a hamster tree
and the man with the golden gun
lily is dancing on the table
the room of the banished poet
but you're not here
I want to paint it black
if you can come to california
till human voices wake us
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A hollow shell, a shell of the girl she used to be...
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Mood:
thoughtful

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There's this girl I know. (That's how all the entries that people hate me for end up starting)

There's this girl I know, and I think she fits the classic signs of this thing I've been reading about.

For those of you that want to get it, pick up Strip City by Lily Burana.


More when I can think.


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