Haven't even brushed my teeth yet but the head rush creeps in
smoke from the pack the young sailor bought me
he calls me from places unknown and makes unfullfillable promises
I want a real man
not a broken man
my man was broken from when he was born i suppose
but have i not fixed him enough
he loves me for me
not because I look like buddy holly
I smell the patchouli vanilla
and I want to go to boulder
boulder ho's they wanna get with this
sweet american sweat that drips on my forehead
sweet blackistan the land I'll never forget
the land I never really left
my addiction to going out, or so my mother puts it
is becoming self evident
`she only has to work until may right` says priti the fucking khiani that fucked my sister up
the fucking right wing mother fucking class system socialites that breed their own dismay
