Woorden: Lawrence Arms. Ghost Stories. 106 South.

our trip had ended i didn't know what I had to do who really cares at all we had to get away somehow we settled on a place where the open road had closed and we tried too many times before and i spent the night alone with three things on my mind money - bills-pills-thrills and girls (i've been) looking through the pages of some magazine that i've read a thousand times the food all starts to taste the same and it's 6:09am and there's nothing on tv and I'm fucked just look at me watching the simpsons afraid to call you i know i fucked up i know i owe you seven hundred please don't hate me i'll get a job and i'll pay you back somehow one more night alone and you can take it there'll be more tomorrow same magazine and tasteless food same tv screen same shitty mood and i feel like it can't get worse