Jun 2016
As I watch the sun go down over the pines.
I can't help but think how home smells like gin.
And how there's a certain irony to that.
How I want to drown myself in it.
And forget I ever left.
I can't help but think how home smells like gin.
And how there's a certain irony to that.
How I want to drown myself in it.
And forget I ever left.
