It hurts when you have to press that dull little thing. That you're only supposed to use once and then discard. Where do you put it? In the garbage can, my honest friend. My shyness, pet her flow
, faces that he sees time again ain't that familiar, oh yeah. Oh, dark grin, he can't help, when he's happy looks insane, oh yeah. Even flow, thoughts arrive like butterflies. Oh, he don't know, so he