Est. 1989. Love the few people I let get close, music, girls, and my beer. Yup.
"Now look at you, you hardly even speak, haven’t woken up to the thought of getting clean in fuckin’ weeks.And if you did, I guarantee you’d never leave the sheets, home alone until that fix comes, put you on your feet.And some blame it on the city, some blame it on the streets, some bury it inside beneath that dream of being free.But I can see it in your eyes, that you’re aware of what it needs, how you feel like it’s the only thing in love that doesn’t leave.And it’s a shame, cause I remember life without the games, and the bittersweet acknowledgement of how it’s gonna change.But the rain can’t wash you if you’re laying in the dirt, and the pain can’t change you if you blame it on the hurt"