i don't wanna live a life that doesn't have
you standing right the hell in it.
exist on a timeline with no meet cute
would cause some fantastic damage.
i don't wanna entertain an alternate dimension
where i don't know you,
and in my soul a valley forms trashed
with the caskets of a bad mood.
i don't wanna live a life
that doesn't have a second of you singing.
i see you spit with comfy lips on "Broken-Hearted"
by Karmin.
i'm brain painting
the storybook romance of a pop star and her guitarist
merging p**ts
in the darkness of their tour bus to the sound of
her fans' exploding hearts.
i'm flying helicopters full of cheese
but jalapeno choppers won't give me heart disease.
good love has been seen between a queen and an amputee,
a man who lost part of himself like the flower and honey bee.
i'm flying helicopters full of cheese
but jalapeno choppers won't give me heart disease.
in every bit of her is a passage to a gentle breeze
leading my ass to the glory of total ease.
i'm flying helicopters full of cheese
but jalapeno choppers won't give me heart disease.
i'll give every bit of me to stare at the greatness of good things misplaced
and would gladly accept her bullet into my timid poker face.