I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed so what's the use?..

And it makes my blood boil
Those black letter days all their mail just winds up lost

And every spring, I hear them sing, I hear them sing

Kommentarer

Kommentera inlägget här:

Namn:
Kom ihåg mig?

E-postadress: (publiceras ej)

URL/Bloggadress:

Kommentar:

Trackback
RSS 2.0