my pretty face is sick. so yesterday, i went to comfort him. and by comfort him, i mean hold him in bed. maybe it's you being delirious paired up with me on hormone overdose but i would love to be the oompa loompa to your willy wonka. ba doom ching. that was the sound of a trap set laughing.
we wear clothes that let the breeze in. and the wind blows the grass in waves up and down the hill while we wait for the light to change. matty k, mahassen, stink and i sat at a metal table with wooden chairs underneath the overhang. i don't know how you can drink so much water and piss so many rivers. it must be a jesus sort of thing. pickitup.pickitup. it's nice to know we're almost done. and i can still laugh and point my ogre fingers.
baby, i want your sugar poured over my body like a steaming bottle of your love.