the windows are fogging i can't see my feet.
Lift up, pull down, hurried and heavy in the backseat of some make, some model--i never paid attention to cars like i paid attention to you. It's familiarity, like we're in high school again, cutting biology for a row of daddy-bought cars. Your car was no different. You were a rich boy from a long line of rich boys and you were entitled, entitled to cars and money and good schools and me.
No matter how much time passes you're still entitled to me.
"I'll call you later," you say as I step out of the car.
DON'T.
I kicked through the leaves covering the sidewalk, wondering when I'm going to grow up. Wondering when I'm going to grow FREE. I'm so fucking tired, but i just can't let go.
No matter how much time passes you're still entitled to me.
"I'll call you later," you say as I step out of the car.
DON'T.
I kicked through the leaves covering the sidewalk, wondering when I'm going to grow up. Wondering when I'm going to grow FREE. I'm so fucking tired, but i just can't let go.