Your love is like a studded leather headlock. Your kiss it could put creases in the rain. You're rarer than a can of dandelion and burdock. And those other girls are just postmix lemonade.
She's thunderstorms. Lying on her front, up against the wall. She's thunderstorms. . I've been feeling foolish, you should try it. She came and substituted the peace and quiet for.