yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest

*profile old * mail * fucking sign it * or how about a nice note?**	you go forward / i'll go backwards
on vinyl
where do you keep the letters you meant to send me and the mixtapes that smell like you intentionally. sometimes i lose myself in the aisles of department stores trying to find that scent but it only seems to smell that way on you. i cant wait for this summer when we'll go to hampton beach in your little car and it'll feel just like a movie with neon lights and dramatic plots to make you pay. you'll try to untwist me but i'll be wrapped around the axls, kicking and screaming on the way home. i say you need to settle down and you say that talk of the electric chair will never get me pardoned.

d-land