I'm not doubting the way it feels to cruise the streets at night on training wheels but when your helmet starts to pinch you know it's time to call it quits. You are a parody on parade, so engrossed in your own joke that you forgot to laugh and there's something bittersweet about that. Now you've got a bunch of innocent people riding the Chinatown bus and you're the captain. No air. No AC. Most of your passengers were just walking down the street when they were captured. It's all about climbing into a paper bag and finding your way out. If you never tried to sell yourself short chances are you can breathe independently. Iron lungs are no fun, are they? After hours of nothing, nothing is biting because your bait is rotten. Waiting in line to become an item.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
