Socratic
Boy In A Magazine
I'll crack my head, then pour in some sorrow, I stole some things from you I could have easily borrowed.
When you were pissed and on the rag.
I waited around but now I'm packing my bags. To live on a street in Hollywood.
Will they love me there? I'll be a boy in a magazine. I'll mean nothing to you, you'll mean nothing to me. You asked to go so I guess that I'll leave and just be a boy in a magazine. I won't have a bed. I'll still have my string stained hand.
I call home where animals are buried in the backyard
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