Careering. the caesar cut: salvation for receding hairlines
Who hid the telegraphs and set their all in trophy cases of the past?
Forget the way you kicked my shoes
Because i can’t sleep at night
Believe me when i tell you that it’s not to late for us to save it all
We’ll hide ourselves in bad reviews and laugh at all our misfortune
Precious dreaming
And i know it’s not real to stare to home and wish for better: you’re better
It’s foolish now to hope for sometime more than you to weigh me in
Another bad trip’s on our hands and this is surely not the first
Paper on a coffee table’s not the kind of stain we’d like to leave
And bleeding’s such an awful mess to find out what you know already
It seems that we’re still sliding to back when we were smiling
And the answer to be given: what if neptune rose?
When you’re seventeen and waiting around. i’ll drive by your house
So how long should it take to guess if i need to see your face
Just to take a trip to somewhere after?
Well this is my display, this is my cliche
When i’m finally dry of all that inspiration, what’s left
This is my heart and these are my arms
C39's at sixteen