lana del rey: *singing sadly* i fuck old biker men and like riding motorcycles into the hot, 1970s desert. choke me like a can of coooke like the lines you did off my tittieeees
me, not relating but pretending like i do anyway:
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Talk a lot during a conversation, and then when it’s finally someone else’s turn, check your phone
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And all the colors I am inside have not been invented yet.
—
Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends: The Poems and Drawings of Shel Silverstein
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