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But not really.
You’re a pretty little girl from across this town
With a lover on the other end of this red clay road
You put a smile on my face
He puts a tear in my right eye
But I’ll put a bullet in his fucking brain.
Shit
Stop fucking complaining about everything. If something is dragging you down and making you sad, cut it the fuck loose. Nobody cares. Guys don’t find it attractive when girls complain about every goddamn thing they don’t like. The world has problems. To bad it doesn’t give a shit about yours. You’re a teenager. Stop bitching and live your life.
Grown in the dirt
So I want to make a southern folk band. I’ve got quite a few songs written and this is the first verse of my favorite one. I just need to find a few people who can play instruments other than guitar and drums. :///
I was walkin in the dirt sippin iced tea
When pretty little girl came walkin up to me
She said do all good men go to heaven
I said honey I don’t really know
But I couldn’t really care
Cause I like it just where I’m at
Canvas
how could you ever know what’s buried inside my mind
from the few short years i’ve known humanity
ive seen enough of your kind
to drive me to insanity
are we meant to believe the cold of winter should pass as good company
to ease our thoughts, our sadness of a summers warmth drifting away
we find solace in a warm body, nothing but an empty canvas
on which we paint our dreams and desires,
and when the color returns to the world, the sun breaks it down
you see, we’re all blank canvases, until we paint each other.
Every little thing you do, has got me singin’ the blues. It’s a fact, but whose to know?
You make me hate the sand between my toes.
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