Jun 2014
We are a mighty band of misfits.
Riding out through no where on a hot summers day.
With our pale skin cooked and our tired eyes barely slits.
Merely to hear bands we've come to Love play.
Riding out through no where on a hot summers day.
With our pale skin cooked and our tired eyes barely slits.
Merely to hear bands we've come to Love play.
I suppose this isn't much of a poem I'm just excited.
