Running out of ciggerates, running out of my new found youth.
Date: Jun 16th, 2008 5:42:04 am - Subscribe
Mood: bummed
Alchohalic demons
sweet tempations
yeah they run through my kind; Of stepped on grass, broken glass, no class.
We ladies are easy to find
The demon at my door step
Livin' no more than 2 kilomanters ahead
They run through my head
I want a drink this second
Theres a man sleeping in my bed
My veins are virgin viens, never been tampered with.
Only dreams, with sweet needles, pricking, making itself home again.
I'm howling in my sleep
the demons at my doorstep again.
( Do not fucking steal)
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