Six feet of delicious hopelessness, you know,
the wish-upon-a-star-but -never-get-your-hopes-up. disposition.
By far, these are the best kind.
boys that give more than they get, poets and painters who search for
the roofs of their suburban homes,drink Chai and apologize when they
laugh too loud.
The types with no experience, who let you call them by nonsensical names.
Trust me, I know how you boys hold your grudges. It's been three days and your still angry, letting jealousy get the better of you. But you're hiding it better than I thought you would, because you don't even dance like that with me.
So I grab the keys and slam the door (not like anyone will hear over the bass) behind me, and take a joy ride in your Porsche.
We'll see who's taking you home tonight.