I’D RATHER SPILL MY GUTS THAN TELL MY SECRETS
the elephant in my sock drawer, in my socks. bite softly, i am tissue paper. all i want to do is sit in the sun, and soak, and burn. blow off some steam. i don't have any magic left. i sold a lot of things i needed. what have i done to destroy my good name? a camera crew on hill-shaded moments. sacred stuff. what i did want being completely irrelevant.