Oh, you're not gonna hit me. 'Cause somewhere deep in that way-too-thin skull of yours knows that you're full of crap. That's why you stopped jogging for me. That's why you drank eight bottles. Because even though you want to think that I'm wrong 'cause it's simpler, yo also desperately want me to be right. I'm only an ass for building your hopes up if I'm wrong...
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario