Your E.T. hands on cold bathroom tiles.
Everyday.
Mundane.
Phone me no home for home's on the range.
Unless...
Thoughtless, spineless.
They say you'll be the opposite of your parents. It's too bad your's loved you so much.
Without that we'd be contemporary. Not the alt-folk we'd hoped for.
Fucking hipsters.
Go back to your home town.
No comments:
Post a Comment