Like my own personal radio that I can jam out to whenever I please wherever I please, and it never turns off. Banging my head around is like the universal symbol for a really great song
Except they're not always songs in my head. It's me, myself and my thoughts. The creamy filling in a chocolaty, opaque truffle. The shell of potential. You'd never know what's inside unless someone told you. You'd never see the inside unless you ***** it. I'm not chocolate, and I don't melt. I'm made of steel- you can't break me.
Hidden in street corners Dark alleys Backseats of cars It’s a shame your parents don’t know what you get up to You make me smell like chocolate Which is a flavor i’ve never really admired And even mixed in with your smoke rings I still feel the desire to quit You or it I don't really care at this point