when a dog barks behind me i cover my throat. i don't watch the superbowl but during a soccer game i feel sorrow because of all the fans who are let down if their team loses. i use black and red because they go nicely together, but only when also used with white. i don't like tequila, sorry. tell it all? there's not much left to say i fear. who are you and why on earth would you love me?
i´m peter van der summer, king of philly, currently residing in a chatau in france with too many old people, too many young people and not enough in the middle. and i´d love you because, fuck man... it´s cold here and i´m tired and i´m running out of cigerettes and i just want someone to love, so it might as well be you. plus your pictures tickled me in my dreams last night. there were red and green bats that blew trumpets from their butts and landed on the shoulders of over grown ogre priests named floyde and johnson.
oh, i'm not in france, not in my mind or in actuality. though, i wouldn't mind it. buy me a plane ticket and book me a room. i'm in california, and i think i'm getting stomach ulcers. i'm watching the honeymooners at eight am its too early for this i say. i'm glad my drawings tickle you in dreams, that is their purpose of course. they haunt me in mine, but you know. i'm 18. my name is jenny. and i suppose that having no ciggies and being cold and tired in france in mind or place is a good enough reason as any to love somebody.
i think i might be going to school in cali. UC Santa Cruz. just sticky wine sunsets, pretty girls dancing on bongo drums and all the fresh apples you can pick from the twenty story red woods growing out of my head.
never really got into the whole diggin on guys thing, but yeah, i guess it is a real girl. but she aint lucky, she´s one of those persons who does things and smacks their heads the next day because, "what the fuck did i just do?"
someday i´ll get her again though, once i get out of this little fucking hell hole called france.
strange how i don't cry when i'm alone in my bedroom going through old photos of people i don't talk to anymore, but this makes me fucking bawl my eyes out.
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when a dog barks behind me i cover my throat. i don't watch the superbowl but during a soccer game i feel sorrow because of all the fans who are let down if their team loses. i use black and red because they go nicely together, but only when also used with white. i don't like tequila, sorry.
tell it all? there's not much left to say i fear. who are you and why on earth would you love me?
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and i´d love you because, fuck man... it´s cold here and i´m tired and i´m running out of cigerettes and i just want someone to love, so it might as well be you. plus your pictures tickled me in my dreams last night. there were red and green bats that blew trumpets from their butts and landed on the shoulders of over grown ogre priests named floyde and johnson.
17, 6´4, and better than good.
what about you, chil´?
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just sticky wine sunsets, pretty girls dancing on bongo drums and all the fresh apples you can pick from the twenty story red woods growing out of my head.
so yeah, i´ve heard enough. im adding you.
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if that is a real girl [or guy] you are talking to, she is one lucky fucking duck.
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someday i´ll get her again though, once i get out of this little fucking hell hole called france.
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everyone knows your shoe squeaks aren't annoying.
it's a better and more sophisticated sound than a full symphony orchestra.
p.s.i love yo.u
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