This wound up, secretively messed up girl with the world at reasoning – seems to be, she living within a gargantuanly misplaced prayer
The naysayers, these strickenly people posing soft little threats all of their own.
Fret not – fret usually – oh lovable rogue of ours, for you are happening for all of the right reasons and these guitar strings have been signed by the devil at your door
Seems to be, he’s been barking up the wrong tree altogether. And she wants me.
As do I, her – all in one go – Signature guitar strings & bad habits whilst we lie, naked upon our own.
Whispering into the other person’s fabricated morning-time.