Despondent, distracted, You're vicious and romantic; These are a few of my favorite things. All of those flavors and This is what you choose: Past the blues, past the blues, And on to something new,Something real, make it timeless, An act of God and nothing less will be accepted. So if you're calling me out, Then count me out.Yeah, we're stubborn and melodramatic, A real class act. You see, I know a few of your favorite things. Five in the morning and all comes out pouring, Love, out the same way in.a bummed out boy with a hint of rage and two parts brave one with a stage and a way about his name. he's chemically dependent on endorphins and common speed he bites shoulders and bottom lips he obsesses over defined hips he's a stretch of everyones imagination but he can be obtained if the offer is right his fashion sense isn't anything to brag about.. he hides his teeth like a sheet with a stain soaked through he's got the urge to herbal then condition like a cosmetic technician his mission was to rant per his routine but now it took a turn for the perverse he drives a car that's tagged 'Just Married' just for the glances and honks of delight. because he's an attention slut.. in a rut. a 3rd person verse about a temporarily bummed out boy♥ Pretty Boys for Secret Girls ♥That's who'd I'd like to meet
Do you belong to a song? Does it drag you along by the tongue at the top of your lungs? Are you drunk? Have you been drinking? Do you below the overpass go with a fifth in your fist reminiscing the kiss of a love that just didn't love as much as you did?But please don't give up, dear walls. Don't let the ceiling fall. When you belong to a song, Salty Eyes. You belong.Shrill notes begin the grim violin. Then from the silence of violence the sirens orchestrate the score. To which one more corpse is left quiet. How we've become the hollows of drums. The rest between notes and the hollers that never reach throats. "Friends" in quotes, they're not calling.But please don't give up dear you. I'll bet the sliver moon's sliding through When you belong to a song, salty eyes. You belong.Do please believe, however naive. let it drag you along by the tongue at the top of your lungs. And belong salty eyes.When you belong to a song, salty eyes. You belong.
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