What have we here? Another stupid introduction to some songs you'll never listen to written by a mind that pretends grape juice is wine and gets fucked up on caffeine every night. 'Cause I put bitches in stitches with the lyrics that I've been spittin' and I'm making incisions like a backwards physician. I know that my diction is not too distasteful and that my rapping is probably unbearable. So here's my mission and it's drenched in addiction and this sickening intuition has it's sights set on my heart. My diction is not too distasteful and my rapping is probably unbearable. What have we here? Another stupid introduction to some songs you'll never listen to. I just don't care. This was never about you.

I kissed your hips and in a nervous fit your body began to shake just like a natural disaster. The richter scale is reading ten, and your fashionable frame has razed all questioning. And I should not, will not, cannot sleep. Should not, will not, cannot bare to dream. Sit back, shut up, jump out the window, love. No, come back inside and let's lie say by side while you breathe through my lungs 'cause I can't run as fast as you can. No, I was not meant to chase you. No, I was not meant or made to. And I should not, will not, cannot sleep. Should not, will not, cannot bare to dream. And I'm hoping so hard that you'll know what I mean. And that just was not part of the plan. No, that just was not part of the plan. And just between us and the man behind the curtain, your thumbs final direction is yet to be determined. I was meant to drink tea with you. (I'm fine...)

You know things about me that even I've forgotten. I made some promises in poems and black boxes with no intentions to break them, despite past inclination. We all make mistakes and I know you've made a few, And I can't help wondering if I was one of the few. Because my heart is too fast and my tongue is two seconds too slow. Does this sound familiar? I still can't lie backwards on my bed without feeling your hot strawberry kiwi breath on my lips and your hands on my... hands. This is why I go to the store sometimes just to buy what serves as a chaser for their messily mixed drinks that I don't even drink half the time. And on that night, I hid that mixer right underneath Megan's bathroom sink. How dare they drink the liquid remnants of my memory that even I cannot keep the same way that I keep the remains of your love on my ceiling in that sea of faces. And it's blood red and permanent. In my heart and in my head and inside of your irises. And on that one and only night that I allegedly saw you cry. In the reclining chair, well I've been meaning to ask, did we share one more kiss? Fleeting, you brushed your lips with my lips. So fast, I thought a ghost running bases did it. Can you please forgive me for each should be dead memory that I have revisited?

When we were younger we fought our fights via verse and we'd publize their proud and unique resolutions. Now I'm stuck staring at a wall while I am singing, littered with memories encased in your handwriting. We fell to friendship sharing stories and sarcasm, simaler family histories and dry cynisicm. We would debate Walt Disney and rival musicians and dye our hair together every color of the summer. I'd fall in love too fast and put you in the backseat. I guess addicition claims us all, or so it would seem. You would go drinking every weekend under highways and call me shitface-drunk at four in the morning. You would not stop to take advice, so I stopped trying. And so the story goes, it's then that we quit talking. And when that theif that stole your hand screamed "put your hands up!", did you wonder if at your funeral, I'd show up. I see you probably more often than you see me inside my dreams at night when we are both sleeping. Do you still use your bed in place of an end table? I want you to validate if I'm dilusional. I wrote this song in place of writing a letter, not that you would want to recognize the sender. And did your heart explode like mine when we locked eyes? Your gaze still burns just like my hand gripping your shoulder. And you are still the only friend of mine my sister ever liked. And I still miss you.

I like to eat breakfast in the evening with all of my friends at the all night diner and we all drink coffee except for a few who flat out refuse and drink hot chocolate instead. Me and Mike Gale, we play Monopoly, while I eat the crusts of Alissa Hunt's grilled cheese. Casey is building pyramids of cream while Eric's turning green from eating what we dared him to eat. All my friends are too indie rock for me but we can still find some small sweet source of commonality. But we all know how to boogie down on the weekends. Is this song getting cute yet? Are you amused yet? Most of my friends are vegetarians except for Jourdan. At least, she's not one yet. I make fun of them and they make fun of me and we laugh until we bleed like raw, mistreated meat. Miss Connor Morrison, well, she is one of them, but she said that she would like to eat a human. Cannibalism just cannot be that bad if me and all my friends are totally cool with it. All my friends are too indie rock for me but we can still find some small sweet source of commonality. But we all know how to boogie down on the weekends. Is this song getting cute yet? Are you amused yet? Laura Lacy is in love with everyone when she is drunk and Paige Bailey tries to feed me bubble tea. Megan Mardon is a dirty hippie, but I really, really like her when she is all soapy and clean. And my friend Monica, she is not indie. With polka dots and bleach, she is so much more scene than me. Lea and Carli, well, they are sisters, and I really like to get them kicked out of the library. All my friends are too indie rock for me but we can still find some small sweet source of commonality. But we all know how to boogie down on the weekends. Is this song getting cute yet? Are you amused yet? And then there is a girl who needs no introduction. She means more than the world will ever mean to me. All of my friends are sick of hearing songs about her, but I don't care because these songs are all for me. We can make it snow when all we have are leaves. And well, hun, we have made it, and that's got to mean something. All my friends are too indie rock for all my friends. All my friends are too indie rock for me but we can still find some small sweet source of commonality. But we all know how to boogie down on the weekends. Is this song getting cute yet? Are you amused yet?