he blows coca-cola, he's the snake on my finger

by Rachel Lynch in


Bad boys, Bad boys, what are you gonna do when they come for you. Kiss my indecisive ass, I'll run laps around you. They've got me smoking where the wild things are. It's not a sexual thing though. Staying up late, talking about the rain forest and smoking out of the window.

Edgy darkness and a room with a view, the wanders come in and out faster than the pop culture. Back of an Italian motorcycle and french kisses under the freeway. Bad boy, Bad boy, what are you gonna do when there's nothing left to.