we burnt out summer in the sun killing car batteries and getting nothing done, letting the smoke fill all the holes in our lungs. why don't you hang around I'm getting better at piecing together this mess but I don't feel any different yet. i took the long way home just to look for you. we should’ve been hanging out. $200 dollars down the drain for all the things we can live without. you could call it the backdoor you could say i’m looking for it, and breaking the space you got as a gift for laughs in a kitchen that i’ve never seen before. you could call it my body but no one lives there anymore. but you’re not making sense anymore. you’re waking up in bed with your clothes on. you’re telling all your friends that you’re bored and wasting all your days poring over mistakes that you made in the past year, convincing yourself to replace what you had here. you don’t fucking owe me a thing. i swear that I’ve stopped listening.
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